


to run under a stormy sky

by koizillaa



Category: Outer Banks (TV)
Genre: Dysfunctional Relationships, F/M, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:55:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26597146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/koizillaa/pseuds/koizillaa
Summary: JJ Maybank goes for a walk and meets a beautiful, strange girl on the beach. The catch? She's sleeping with his arch enemy.Of unlikely friendships and impending heartbreak.
Relationships: JJ (Outer Banks)/Original Female Character(s), Rafe Cameron/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 42





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i first posted this story on my tumblr (@koizillaa, prev. @marinkas) and it had about 13 or so parts when i decided that it simply did not please me anymore. i decided to rewrite, make a few minor changes in my phrasing and descriptions and to move the story here because i didn't feel like reposting on my blog.
> 
> the plot is the same, but the character that was an insert (mainly because i couldn't think of a name until i already had about 5 chapters posted) is now an oc and the chapters are also a little longer and fewer for better pacing.
> 
> here goes nothing.

JJ Maybank was uncomfortable. 

When he’d walked out of his house before the first light of morning for a stroll on the beach to clear his mind, he hadn’t expected to see anyone - and specially not Genevieve Braden.

He thought about turning on his heel and just leaving her alone. He’d picked enough fights with Kooks this week for the whole year, his body hurt, and he was in no mood to even look at another prissy little second-homer. But then he noticed the half empty bottle of something that looked a lot like vodka on her hand while she’s so dangerously close to the edge of the wooden pier she’s standing in, and the urge to help got the best of him.

“Hey!”, he shouts, then swears under his breath, sprinting in her direction. JJ has the feeling he’ll regret his actions no matter what he does next.

The girl turns around, hair flowing behind her like a whip. The night is chilly and windy, and she’s only wearing a skimpy sundress over her swimsuit. “Hi!”, she waves and smiles at him in a drunken daze. She takes a second to recognize him. “JJ, right?”

He’s sure this Kook girl wouldn’t be this friendly to a deadbeat Pogue like him if she weren’t so intoxicated, but he shakes the thought. “Right. Um, can you step away from the edge? It’s making me really tense.” His jaw twitches. He doesn’t want to be any nicer than he has to, but he’s afraid that if he snaps at her, the drunk girl would fall off into the freezing water, and then _he_ would have to jump in (and JJ Maybank was also not in the mood for hypothermia).

“We don’t even know each other. Why should I listen to you?” Her voice is teasing, and she swings one of her legs above the water while balancing herself on the other. JJ suppresses the urge to yell at her and offers her his hand.

“Come on, just come a little closer to the middle. I’ll leave you alone then, I promise”, he rolls his eyes.

At that exact moment, she yelps as her supporting leg falters and JJ’s hand quickly grabs hold of her forearm in a firm grip. He pulls her closer to himself and away from the border.

“Oh my god! _Ohmygodimsosorry_. Are you okay? I’m sorry”, she pleads as he brings her to the center of the pier. “I should sit down. I’m _so_ sorry.”

She doesn’t let go of his arm - or the bottle, which he can tell now it’s definitely vodka, and an expensive one at that - and he lets her pull him down to her beach towel, where a gray linen bag lay next to blue striped flip flops.

“I'm Gen. Genevieve Braden. But Gen is fine.” She slurs her words a little, running her hand through her hair. It’s unsettling.

“I know who you are.” He answers dryly. His heart is still beating at his throat, the fright slowly giving way to annoyance. “What’s a Kook princess even doing this far south? It’s like 5 in the morning. Shouldn’t you be counting hundred dollar bills or something?” JJ folds his arms in front of his chest.

But Genevieve Braden doesn’t look like she’s paid any mind to what he said. She’s looking at the sky behind him, and her eyes tell him she’s far away. He turns his head to look at the first rays of sunshine coming up from the sea. The waves are calm and soothing, and he forgets for a second where he is and who he’s with.

“... we’re matching.”

JJ snaps his head in Genevieve’s direction, and sees her staring at the spot on his arm where a bruise was blooming black and blue. He scowls and reflexively covers it up with his hand, thinking, _that’s it, I’m bolting,_ but then he sees it. There’s a similar, fresher looking mark close to her wrist, and another on her knee. She takes a swig straight from her bottle, then raises an eyebrow and offers it to him.

JJ snorts. What the hell, he thinks, accepting her offer. He’ll probably never even see booze this fancy ever again, and it’s not like his parents ever advised him not to take drinks from strangers. He takes a long gulp.

“Are yours Rafe’s too?”, she mumbles to the sky. She must’ve heard about their fight yesterday. JJ chokes on his drink, abruptly putting the bottle down.

“ _Rafe Cameron_ did this to you?” He notices another dark spot on her leg. And another near her jaw. His blood suddenly boils. Genevieve pulls out a cigarette pack and a lighter from her bag. “Isn’t he like, your boyfriend or sumn’?”

She snorts, “Rafe’s not my boyfriend”, struggling to get her lighter to work. After watching her some more, JJ takes out his own and slides it in her direction. “He thinks he is sometimes. And I have to remind him he’s not. And then he gets pissed off. And we fight. And then one of us falls down the stairs or something.” She takes a drag. “Tonight just happened to be me.”

The response it gets out of him is almost visceral, and he wants to scream, desperately, to tell her to stay far away from Cameron, where he won’t be able to hurt her again. But there’s something in the matter of factly way she says it that tells him she doesn’t want anyone telling her what to do, and JJ had learned a hard lesson on leaving things alone just a few hours ago. He’s glad for the alcohol slowing down his reactions.

“What the fuck”, he says instead, stealing two cigarettes from her pack. He slides one into his pocket and lights the other. Genevieve doesn’t seem to mind. He focuses on smoking, because maybe it’s the sound of the waves letting him put his guard down, or the strong vodka clouding his judgement, or the way this strange girl is telling him things almost makes him want to tell her about what happened to him tonight too.

Almost. Not quite. But she’s way drunker than him, so she goes on.

“It’s really fucking tiring. Like, _fuck_ . Why can’t he just accept he can’t yell me into being with him?” An exasperated sigh. “He used to be fine with - _ugh,_ he set the rules himself, the little shit, ‘no strings attached’ and all. He doesn’t get to be pissed at _me_ because of this crap.” She takes another sip. “And it's not like he _loves_ me. Seriously. I think it's mostly just a thing about his pride or maybe a public relationship with _the Braden heiress_ ”, she spits out with a mocking tone and a laugh and drinks some more, “would get him in good with his dad.”

“So why haven’t you ditched him already?” He’s surprised to finally hear himself saying.

She pauses. Genevieve frowns, grinding the butt of her burned out cigarette on the back of her hand and watches the cinders crumble through her fingers with disgust scrunching up her features. “I-", Another pause. “He makes me feel something. He’s a bad habit. Guilty pleasure, even”, she sighs. “And I guess I’m just used to it. To all the shit we give each other. It’s not like I’m in love with him either. I really hate him sometimes, actually. Most of the time. But sometimes I don’t. Maybe it should be easier, but I don’t know. It’s not.”

So, JJ Maybank was uncomfortable. He really didn’t want to know _anything_ about Rafe Cameron’s sex life - just the thought makes him gag - but he’s had enough to drink that he’s empathizing with this girl. Even if she’s a Kook. Even if she’s sleeping with Rafe Cameron. Maybe because she’s with Rafe Cameron, which to him sounds just about the worst situation for anyone to be in.

“Look. I can’t really tell you what to do. It’s not my place, we’re not friends and I’m pretty biased - I hate the guy,” he blurts out. Genevieve laughs through her nose and shows no inclination to defend him. “But it sounds to me like you gotta put yourself first. Whatever that means. I mean, I really don’t think it’s good that you’re sporting bruises he gave you. Or to put up with all this shit. His problems are his problems, and he doesn’t get to take them out on you.”

Genevieve looks like she’s been caught off guard, like she hadn’t been expecting him to say so much, and he forces himself not to regret his words. Kook girls dont get to make him feel stupid, even if they give him free booze. She doesn’t say anything, and JJ goes on before she has the chance to. “But like I said. I’m biased.”

They sit in silence for several moments, and JJ tries not to let the fact that he’s just had a heart to heart with his arch nemesis’ not-girlfriend get to him. The sky is clear now, and he can see the goosebumps dotting her arms and legs. Genevieve smiles at him, and it’s like a weight suddenly, at last, is lifted from his shoulders.

“Well, it’s almost 7. I haven’t been home in two days, I’m still drunk and I gotta shower.” Her laugh sounds a bit deranged. Genevieve starts gathering her scattered belongings and putting them away inside her bag. JJ rises to his feet so she can take her beach towel from under them, and helps her fold it into a neat, small rectangle. “Thanks for the chat, JJ. And for your patience. I… I appreciate it.”

“And for saving your life?” He doesn’t know why he’s still entertaining this Kook princess who will probably never spare him another glance. But she scoffs jokingly and smiles at him, and for a second he doesn’t really mind.

“Yeah. That too, I guess. Thanks. Take care of yourself, okay?”

Genevieve Braden smiles before turning on her heel and disappearing in the horizon. Her sunrise-cast shadows are the last thing he sees before he walks away.

-

Gen had never particularly cared for Rafe Cameron.

He was her best friend Sarah’s older brother, perpetually disrespectful and leering towards her and his sister, and a little too preppy for her taste. Sure, he was cute _._ Cute, older and _off-limits,_ which in any other situation would be something she’d go for. But he had always treated her like a child, a nuisance not worthy of his attention. It infuriated her to no end.

She wonders when exactly he started noticing her.

She realized it around the time her friendship with Sarah started crumbling to pieces, because she’d found a new, better girl, and Gen just didn’t care enough about baby turtles.

They were hanging out at the beach on Figure 8, just a few people from school, and Sarah and her current best friend - Carrie? Kira? - were roasting marshmallows and giggling at some joke she’s not a part of close to the bonfire. She tries to tune them out and concentrate on whatever Topper is telling Marcus, but it’s like they want to be heard by everyone on this side of the island.

“I’m getting a refill”, Gen declares as she stands up. She leaves without waiting for a reply, because she knows she wasn’t going to get one.

Her stomach churned. She makes her way to the spot where they were keeping the drinks childishly kicking the sand under her feet. Rafe is leaning against his car, chatting to Kelce next to the cooler, and she loathes to be seen in such a pathetic state, especially by him. Gen turns her head back and sees Kiana (or is it Kenna?) slapping Sarah’s arm lightly. She stares for a moment. Jealousy makes her scowl.

“She really is a bitch”, Rafe says behind her, now alone and holding a bottle of beer in each hand.

She’s ready to snap at him, to stand up for her friend. It’s not unusual to see Rafe having a go at Sarah, and Gen has never held back her own less than kind thoughts about him whenever he does it in her presence. But she’s so angry and so hurt that she just turns her face to him. Rafe’s looking at her with a mix of disbelief and cockiness.

“You see something you like?” he raises a brow.

Gen recovers from her trance, taking the beer from his extended hand despite herself. She looks away. “I’m just really pissed off right now.”

Rafe scoffs, “You should be.” She leans on the car by his side, folding her arms over her chest. Her body is turned to him, but both of them are watching the bonfire. The girls look small from so far away.

Rafe finishes his drink. “Look at her, all giggly with that Kiara girl and not giving a shit about anything else. The fucking _Pogue_ lover.”

He’s facing her now. She’s not sure if the alcohol and the anger are playing tricks on her mind, but it feels like he’s moved closer. Gen finds that she doesn’t really mind. She chooses to stay silent, taking a sip of the beer. When Rafe speaks again, his tone is much calmer. 

“How are you holding up?”

Gen purses her lips. It’s a simple question, but one she’d never thought he’d be asking her. They never really speak to each other beyond hi-hellos in social events or occasional passive aggressive banter. She takes a deep breath and smoothes her hair. It’s not like she can afford to be picky about her company tonight. 

“I’m trying to ignore it. Distract myself or something. Better than picking pointless fights and stressing myself out even more, I guess.” It is, admittedly, a jab at his own behaviour regarding conflict. She only regrets it the tiniest bit.

Rafe’s eyes are cloudy. “I guess”, he echoes. Then he grins. It quirks up to the left, slowly, as if he’s trying to stop it from taking over his face. And she’s completely mesmerized. 

Gen puts her bottle down on the ground next to the cooler. When she rises, she positions herself just a few inches closer to him, just to see if he’ll notice. She doesn’t know what drives her to do it - if it’s because she knows he’s bad news, if it’s because Sarah would hate her for it, or if it’s something else entirely. But he’s a boy, and he’s older, and he no longer seems cute - he’s devastatingly _handsome_ and she’s hurting and he’s _looking_.

Rafe, apparently, can pick up on subtlety. “So, am I your distraction right now?”

Gen is not sure if he lowered his mouth to hers or if she first laced her arms around his neck, but she ends up pressed against the back of his car, his lips ravishing her neck and his hand shoved up her dress. And she knows she’s being selfish, she knows that Sarah will probably be furious when she finds out. He knows it too. But mistakes like this are best made big, and all at once. The newness of him and the rush from his hands roaming her body are too intoxicating.

He tastes of beer and smoke and relief. It’s the most alive she’s felt in a while.

-

It goes on.

When his father’s judgement and his sister’s disapproval and his step-mother’s ego all become too much to deal with, he invites her over. She doesn’t ask questions, and he likes it that way.

Her mother dies in a car accident. She’s seventeen and her father is working his days away to busy his mind, and he can’t bear to look at the daughter who reminds him so much of the life he’s lost. She’s seventeen and alone and with too much time to think and hurt, so Gen distracts herself with drinking and partying and Rafe. He doesn’t ask questions, and she likes it that way.

Gen had been with other boys; Rafe was by no means the first. She’d had her share of playground pecks and heated adolescent makeouts under the bleachers, but they find a strange kind of solace in each other that is so unlike everything she knows. It’s a sort of unexpected kinship that somehow makes sense. They’re the wrong pieces put together in a puzzle - each have their own edges and angles, and the picture doesn’t look quite like it should, but they fit.

Sarah eventually ditches Kiara, but neither are the type to come crawling back. They don’t make up.

She won’t say it, but it hurts. It hurts.

Her rendezvous with Rafe become ever more frequent. They are not friends. They are not lovers. They fight more than they talk.

The first time he shoves her during a particularly nasty argument, she hits him right back. She should’ve walked away, stayed away. But she’d just let him kiss her again. She still can’t tell if it was a mistake, but she’s never sober enough to want to explore that thought.

-

 _I’m not your boyfriend_ , Rafe tells her in the midst of a dirty tryst. He’s breathless and sweat drips from his temples as he holds her arms above her head.

He likes her like this best. Speechless and bare, pleading, deeper, faster. Shyness forgotten long ago. It might bother her, if she couldn’t do the same to him.

His statement doesn’t faze her. She’s too distracted by the way his teeth sink into her shoulder, but she finds the strength to scoff. His hand grips her throat. _And I’m not your girlfriend. Who gave you_ that _idea?_

They lose the argument somewhere between the sheets.

Gen doesn’t mind that he’s rough. Doesn’t mind that he’s distant and that he’s harsh. Because she’s all those things too.

They’re not friends. They’re not lovers. They’re distractions, and she likes it that way.

**-**

Beginning of the end.

“I told my dad about you.”

Gen’s hands stop stroking his chest. From her position on top of him, she glares and sits back down on his thighs. He’d been quick to remove her dress today, and she’d wondered for a moment what was making him so tense.

 _Come over_ , he’d texted her, a bit later than usual. _I need you._

She was still angry because of their last fight, but she went.

She always did.

“You told him _what,_ exactly?” Gen crosses her arms. Rafe was fidgety (she thinks it might be the coke, but she’s learned not to ask about that), hands leaving their place on her hips to mess up his hair to come back to resting on her body. She slaps them away. He won’t meet her eyes.

“About us. I told him about us, okay?” With a groan, Gen fumbles to get off him as he slides his body up into a sitting position on the bed. “It’s not a big deal, come on. Don’t make a scene.”

“Not a big deal? What the fuck, Rafe?” she yells. She doesn’t know what to think. This is uncharted territory. This is not something she’s ready for, and she feels betrayed. Rafe is the one person who is supposed to understand. “What did you tell him? Huh? That you fuck me in his office? That I blow you on his boat?”

She’s only being so crude because she knows Ward Cameron is not home. She’d bumped into him and his wife going out on her way in. He’d looked so happy to see her, and now she knows why. God, she needs a drink.

“Genevieve, calm down-“

“Shut up.” She’s picking up her sundress from the floor. She thought about storming out in her bikini and just leaving it behind, but she doesn’t know when she’ll be back. “You don’t get to do this! You don’t get to use me to look good with him!”

“Isn’t that exactly what we do? Don’t we _use_ each other?” He’s angry now, eyes narrowed, neck strained, and Gen can tell he wants a fight.

“This is _so_ not the same thing-“, she tries to say, but he cuts her off. “It’s not like I said we’re getting fucking _married!_ ” His hands fly to his head, ruffling his hair in distress. “I just told him we’ve been… seeing each other. We could talk about it, you know.”

“But you _didn’t!_ And what about that ‘don’t get attached’ _bullshit_ you’re always so quick to spew at me?” Gen laughs in disbelief, because _how dare he_. “I can’t deal with this right now.” She usually craves the clash, the rush, but this time, she just wants to get away.

“What are you so afraid of? Am I really that bad?” _Not this again_ , she thinks. She storms out of his room. “Yeah Gen, run from me. Just like you do with everything else in your life. You’re gonna go drown your problems in booze right now?” He yells behind her in the hallway. “You’re such a _coward!”_

“Say that again!” Gen snaps. He’s so close, she can see the remains of white powder on his nose. “Say it again. _I’m_ the coward?”

She raises her hand to slap him, but he grabs her wrist before she can and _squeezes_ and she wonders if it will turn to dust before her eyes.

“I’ve never asked for _anything_! Why can’t you give me a chance? Why can’t you just do this for me?”

“It’s not my job”, she snarls. Rafe is seething. He looks almost hurt. He loosens his grip on her wrist, and she yanks it free. Rafe opens his mouth again and reflexively, Gen takes a step back -

And rolls down the spiral staircase.

“Rafe! What the hell!” someone else’s voice.

She’s disoriented, the world still spinning. When she finally comes to, Rafe and Sarah are both staring at her, their eyes wide. Gen hasn’t seen her in so long, she wonders if she’s hit her head too hard. Sarah’s door is always closed when she comes over.

“What did you do?! Did you push her? Oh God - ” her ex-best friend sounds panicked. Gen’s entire body hurts, but she stands up.

“Shut up, Sarah! This is none of your business. I didn’t do shit!” he shouts. “Gen! -”

She doesn’t stay to hear the rest of it. Gen grabs her bag and her flip flops and storms out of the house, blinded with rage, shaky with pain.

She suddenly felt like drowning some problems in booze.

-

When she wakes, she reeks of vodka and salt water.

Her head is pounding. Her mouth is dry. She’d been so exhausted, her legs couldn’t carry her up to her room. She blacked out on the couch.

Gen feels like yesterday was just a fever dream. Rafe Cameron, asking her for a chance. Seeing Sarah again, for the first time in months.

JJ freaking Maybank giving her life advice. Or whatever the hell that had been.

Gen hadn’t really stopped to process what had happened at the beach when she arrived at her empty house in the morning. Now that she thinks about it, she must have been so annoying, with her clumsy limbs and drunk words. But he’d drawn her away from the edge and listened to her.

It’s not like she personally knew him, but she was very aware of his bad blood with the Kooks - Rafe had vented about him to her on several occasions -, so his willingness to keep her company confused her. Had she really just imagined it all?

Gen makes her way to the kitchen. She can’t remember the last time she drank water, and it tastes so strange on her tongue she spits it out. She’s pretty sure she’s dehydrated.

_What the hell am I doing?_

She needs a cigarette. And a damn shower.

Going through her belongings, she finds her pack. But instead of taking it out immediately, her hands discover something much more intriguing.

JJ Maybank’s silver lighter lay at the bottom of her beach bag. It’s thick and cold against her hand. His initials are sloppily carved into it, and she laughs a little through her nose. He’d been real, after all.

(She wonders why the realization turns her frown into a grin.)


	2. Chapter 2

_Gen._

_I’m sorry._

She’s not entirely sure what she is doing at the boneyard. Gen had come with a group of acquaintances who liked to keep her around for her impulsiveness - they didn’t know anything about her, but they loved it when she was wasted and balconing at their parties -, but Pogue keggers weren’t really their scene either.

_Gen, please. Forgive me. I’m sorry._

Her phone beeps again. She doesn’t have to look to know who it is, but she does anyway.

_Don’t be like this._

There is a chilly breeze that borders on uncomfortable, but they at least have beer. Also, she needs a distraction. Gen is determined to not speak to Rafe for a while after their fight last week.

So far, she’s managed to ignore his calls and texts. But she has to keep herself busy. It’s getting harder and harder to stay away - and she cannot, will not, let him charm her into his bed again. Not yet. Not while the bruises on her body are still fading.

“Gen!”, one of the girls who had come with her - Maya, she thinks -, nudges her arm. “You coming?”

“Sure. I’m… I’m just going to go get another drink”

“Oh! Can you get one for me? We’ll be just by the fire!” The girl’s voice is a little shrill. Gen has already turned around, so she gives a thumbs up to the general direction.

Truth is, she wants to go home. Her head hurts, she’s not particularly keen on her company, and she’s starting to wonder if the cheap beer is really worth the chaotic ‘queue’.

“Excuse me ma’am.” Gen feels a hand on shoulder. “Are you a bank loan? Because you got my interest.”

She scoffs before turning her head to the side to face him. Gen shrugs his hand away. She’s _really_ not in the mood today, and his receding hairline and chest hair tell her he’s a little too old to be coming onto a seventeen year old girl.

He raises his hands in mock-surrender. “No? Let me try again”, he gives her what she’s sure he thinks is a charming smile. “Something’s wrong with my eyes. I can’t take them off you.”

 _Oh, great._ Gen suddenly feels a little exposed in her bikini and linen button up. She turns away from him, moving closer to the cluster of people around the keg. “Hey missy, I’m talking to you!” This time, he pulls on her elbow, forcing her to turn to him. 

“What the fuck, man?!” she yanks her arm away, causing him to stumble and spill half the content of his cup down her leg. By now, they had attracted the attention of a small crowd.

Then, if it wasn’t enough, he starts patting her thigh down.

“Oh, I’m sorry-“

“Don’t _touch_ me!”

“She said not to touch her!”

More people join the fight. Too many loud voices, too many hands and fists. Hell, even she throws a blind punch. An elbow hits her chest, and in her tipsy state, Gen yelps as she falls down on her butt, a sharp pain immediately radiating from the side of her leg.

“Fuck. _Fuck_.”, she hisses. People are gathering around her and talking and pointing. She should’ve gone home.

Then, as if on cue, JJ Maybank crouches down next to her. 

Gen laughs in disbelief. “Man, we gotta stop meeting like this.”

JJ doesn’t really acknowledge her, instead focusing on examining her leg. Another boy kneels next to him, and when she follows his gaze, she finally sees it. She’d fallen on her side on the sand right on top of a broken beer bottle, and what felt like a billion shards of glass had pierced her skin and stuck to her thigh. 

“Pope, what do you reckon?”

“Looks bad. This has to be cleaned up like, ASAP. We should get her to a hospital -“

“Hey! Hey”, Gen pushes Pope’s hand away from her weakly, but he complies. “Wait a second. I can’t go to the hospital. They’ll call my dad -”

“Dude, we don’t even know how deep the glass is in, and if you don’t get the splinters out of your leg and disinfect it, you could get septicemia or something -”

“ _Pope._ I got this.” JJ looks a little disturbed, “Do you have the keys?”, he looks at his friend. Pope seems uncertain, but he doesn’t look like he’s about to question JJ. “No man, I think John B has them,” he scans the crowd.

“Guys. _Guys!_ ” Their heads turn to her. “I drove here.” Gen dangles her keys.

JJ takes them. “‘Course you did. Can you walk?” Both boys help her up. She tests her leg and hisses. “Doesn’t feel amazing, but I’m not parked far.”

Pope looks conflicted, but this is enough for JJ. He slings her arm over his shoulder. “Tell John B and Kie I’m taking off!”

She’s silent save for a few grunts, and Gen tries not to lean on him too much. She’s pretty sure he’d rather be back at the beach partying with his friends instead of half carrying a slightly drunk, bleeding girl to her car, and she doesn’t want to piss him off when she knows she needs his help. She should’ve worn pants, dammit. When they get to the car, JJ opens the door so she can get in. Gen takes off the shirt covering her bikini top. He makes a face. She rolls her eyes.

“So my blood doesn’t get all over the seats”, Gen shrugs.

“Seriously, can I get you without the mortal peril?” JJ sounds exasperated, but something in the corner of his mouth tells her he wants to laugh a little. Gen doesn’t know what to say, so she just lets him haul her into the passenger seat.

“So.” She props her leg up and wipes her thigh carefully with her shirt. The white fabric turns scarlet instantly. JJ starts the car. “I take it we’re not going to the hospital?”

“Nuh-uh.”

There’s a moment of silence. She pouts. He doesn’t look like he wants to tell her anything else, but she’s growing restless, and a distraction from the pain in her leg would be _very_ welcome.

“Are you taking me to your place?” she prods.

“Yes. No. I mean -” He exhales. “Yeah. Sort of, I guess.”

She sighs at his dryness and throws her hands up, defeated. The change of scenery tells her they’re coming further into the marsh. They pull up to a dirt driveway of what looks like an old fish shack, and JJ opens the door for her to get out.

Before she can place her foot on the ground, he’s lifting her up and carrying her to the porch. She gets a glimpse of the inside of the cabin before he lets her down.

“Welcome, Your Highness, to the Chateau”, he bows. “Wait here, I’ll be just a sec.”

Gen’s first impression: _messy_ . The couch bed is unfolded and unmade. There are clothes inside-out everywhere _(everywhere)_ and maybe half a dozen pizza boxes piled on the dinner table.

She sits on the floor, leaning her back against the couch. A light flicks on.

“So, Genevieve -”

“Just Gen”, she corrects.

“- the good news is we’ve got everything we need in here” he taps the aluminum box with a sharpie colored red cross “to clean up that mess.”

“And the bad news is…?” He seats himself next to her.

“Well, since you opted for no hospital, this is your anesthesia.”

JJ smiles and shoves a beer in her hand.

-

A few bottles and what feels like hours later, the sky is pitch black and JJ’s scavenging for the last, trickier pieces of glass.

“I never understood why you Kooks _always_ crash our parties. Don’t you have fancy gatherings to drink wine from the Ice Age and snort coke on bedazzled platters?” He forces an accent, and it drags a laugh out of her. It’s a good sound.

“I don’t know. I think it’s because they’re always - _Ouch!_ ” Splinter. “- _so_ much fun.” Blood drips from the gash. “But you should come check out our masquerades. They’re truly venerable.” Her voice is strained. He doesn’t look up, but she hears his chuckle.

“Yeah, I’m sure they are. But I’m _also_ sure I’d get dragged out by security before I even caught a whiff of that veneration you’re talking about.” He takes another splinter out and cleans the cut. “Besides, when I get enough money to be in y’all’s preppy parties, I’m getting the hell out of this place.”

Gen raises an eyebrow. “Where would you go?”

JJ snorts and pulls out another piece of glass, conflicted on whether to answer her question. Gen makes no sound, and waits. 

“Easy. Xcalak. Yucatan, Mexico.” JJ sighs and dresses the wound. “I’m tellin’ you. I just gotta get myself some cash and I’m gone.” He pats her knee, admiring his work. “Okay, you’re done.”

She nods, but shows no intention to move. “Can I have some paper? And something to write with?”

He frowns, but tosses her a crumpled pink post-it sticker and a chewed up pen. Gen starts to scribble something in ridiculous, perfectly proportionate handwriting. He peeks over her shoulder to see an address. “Where’s that?”

“Don’t worry. It’s not mine.” She hands him the note. “One of my neighbors, this old Kook lady who lives across the street, she’s looking for a gardener.” JJ raises his brow. “The yard is not too big, and it’s good money, really. She paid me a hundred bucks to walk her dog once.”

JJ’s jaw twitches.“Look, I don’t want your pity -”

“It’s not. I promise. It’s just -“ she exhales. “You’ve helped me out twice now. I’m just paying you back, I guess. You don’t have to take the job if you don’t want to. I just thought I’d let you know.”

He stares and the piece of paper in his hand. Gen purses her lips and rises to her feet.

“Anyway,” she picks up her bloody rag of a shirt from the floor. “I should get going.”

“Genevi -” He scratches the back of his head. “Gen”, he corrects. She raises an eyebrow. “You good to drive?”

“I’m alright. Thanks again, JJ.” 

All he gives her is a quick nod.

-

In her car, Gen takes a deep breath and fumbles with her keys. JJ is still examining her post-it. She starts the engine, and her phone beeps again. She doesn’t have to look to know who it is. 

So she doesn’t.

-

Eventually, Rafe stops calling.

This isn’t the first time they’d had a falling out. Admittedly, it was the worst so far, but he knows how this works. They’ve been at this for long enough. Gen will talk to him again when she wants to talk to him again, and she’ll want to talk to him again once she’s decided he’s suffered enough with her silence. It’s well deserved.

The problem with that was that he had _not_ endured enough, but she wanted, _needed_ something to distract her from the heat and the emptiness of her own house.

It’s not that she doesn’t like the warm weather. Summer is actually her favorite, and she’s sure she would’ve thought the day was perfect if she weren’t pissed off and bored out of her mind. There’s no kegger today, no party to look forward to tonight and no one to keep her company if she were to go to the beach.

Last year, this wouldn’t have been a problem for her, she thinks bitterly, sipping on her gin and tonic. Last year, Sarah was still in her life, like Topper and Kelce and all the others she merely acknowledges in passing now. Not for the first time, Gen considers calling Rafe, and she hates admitting to herself he’s the only one left.

Needless to say, Rafe had never stayed around because she makes a mean mojito, she thinks as she picks up the lemon slice from the bottom of her glass. She could almost conjure his grip on her hips, fingers around her throat, teeth in her collarbone...

If it weren’t for the terribly loud sound of an engine outside, of course. It was the same noise that had woken her up, and she’d been semi-successfully trying to tune it out all morning. Groaning in frustration, Gen holds the lemon between her teeth and opens the curtains, trying to catch a glimpse of the source of her disturbance.

Oh _God._

On the other side of the street, JJ Maybank walks across the grass pushing a lawn mower. And shirtless, too. (Boy’s chests are far from a novelty to her, but even she has to concede he’s ridiculously toned.)

She should’ve expected it, really - she’d been the one to tell him about the job. But the excitement didn’t come exactly from that. Every time Gen had seen JJ Maybank, it had been in an unusual scenario, and it had always felt like a dream of sorts. Now he’s here, in her neighborhood, right outside her door, just across the street. She gets up from the couch and rushes to the door.

“Hey!” Gen shouts as she sprints past the threshold. He can’t hear her ( _obviously_ , she points out in her head) so she tries again after she’s on her neighbor’s sidewalk, “JJ!”

His head snaps up. He’s startled for a moment, but his face breaks into a grin when he sees her. JJ turns off the noisy machine.

“Hey. JJ.” She’s a little breathy.

“Genevieve.” He tips off an imaginary hat. 

“You took the job.”

“I did.”

Gen chews on her lip. Okay, she feels a little stupid now. She’d rushed in, didn’t think of anything to say besides the obvious. _Jesus_ , she didn’t even bring him a drink. For a moment, she wondered if the conversation would just die and she’d have to turn on her heel and hide in her house until he left. JJ offers her a smile, a slow, easy, lazy grin that spreads across his face and makes a slight dimple show up on his left cheek. _Hm,_ is Gen’s only coherent thought.

“I’d be really stupid not to, though. Kook princesses don’t fall from the sky with job offerings for just anyone, you know”, he scratches his forehead casually. “Also, how is this lady still so rich? It’s like she has _no clue_ what money management is.”

Gen, thankfully, finds her voice again. “Yeah, Mrs. Rhodes, uh, she’s pretty... slow. Nice person though. Invites me over for tea sometimes. And _she_ was the one with the job offering. I just informed you of its existence.”

“Meh, same thing to me. Hey, how’s that leg doing, by the way?”

Gen’s hand flies to the spot on her leg where he’d removed a billion glass splinters from just over a week ago.

“Oh, it’s good. You did a great job, honestly. I’ve been applying this vitamin E oil thing so it doesn’t scar, too. So yeah. It’s pretty good.”

His expression tells her he has no idea what she’s talking about, but he nods. He’s glistening with sweat, and she can feel her own scalp dampening a little. She really should’ve brought him that drink.

JJ clears his throat. “Well, I gotta get back to work. This little beauty won’t push itself around -”

“Do you wanna come in?” she blurts out. “My house, I mean. When you’re finished. It’s that one”, she waves a hand behind herself.

“ _That_ house?” he looks at the mansion, shaking his head in disbelief as if the idea is laughable. Gen refuses to be embarrassed. She smiles and rests her hand on her hip.

“Well, I do have beer in the fridge. And AC. And I might be planning on ordering pizza later. A very large pizza.”

“You don’t look like you can handle a large pizza by yourself.”

Gen shrugs, taking a step back. She flashes him a smile and walks away. She’s almost at the door when he shouts her name again. Gen turns around to see him leaning against the lawn mower with a hand wiping the sweat from his brow.

“What kind of pizza?”

 _I knew it_. She holds back a giggle. He looks about to turn on the engine again. The sun makes her squint a little. “You’ll have to come and find out!”

-

It was pepperoni.

“I actually pegged you for a pineapple pizza kind of person”, is the first thing he says after coming in.

Standing on this fancy porch, JJ’s heart was beating faster than ever before. _You’re behind enemy lines now,_ his brain tells him. Even the flowers in the front yard were intimidating. This is the kind of place the residents hire him as a waiter for their fancy parties, not invite him for dinner. When he passes Genevieve through the large doorway, his shoulder almost brushes hers. _Get a grip._

_Shut up._

Her house has a lot of windows, he notices. Like, glass panel walls everywhere. The curtains are closed now, but he can picture the sunlight pouring inside from every angle of the room. The living room is probably the size of his entire house. It is, like everything about Genevieve Braden, unsettling. And that’s putting it mildly.

“I’ll have you know I _do_ like pineapple on my pizza. But I took _you_ for a ‘meat lovers’ guy. Not really my thing, though. So I ordered pepperoni. You just can’t go wrong with pepperoni”, she says as she disappears into another room.

Genevieve comes out from what he assumes to be the kitchen balancing a pizza box on one hand and holding a six pack of beer on the other. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was until she arrived with delicious-smelling food. Now he’s suddenly famished.

“ _Touché, señorita._ ” JJ takes the box from her hand and puts it down on the center table. “You can never go wrong with pepperoni.”

She hands him a beer as he sinks to the floor next to her. “So, your parents cool with this?”

Gen is skipping through the credits of ‘The Chungking Express’. She raises a perfectly groomed eyebrow. “This?”

JJ pops the cap open and nods, giving into the urge to roll his eyes. “Yeah, this. You know. Boy, beer, no adults in the house. I don’t know how they raise y’all on this side of the island.”

She lets out a breathy laugh and shakes her head. “My dad’s not around much. Comes here once a month I think. I’m alone most of the time. He won’t mind me doing anything unless I involve the cops or end up in the hospital.” She turns off the TV.

“Huh.” He won’t bring up that she didn’t say anything about her mother, and he refuses to indulge in his curiosity. “Sounds pretty awesome to me.” _What the hell am I doing here?_

Gen is silent for a few moments, lips pursed, brow furrowed. “I guess it does”, she mumbles. “Anyway. Do you wanna play a game?” her carefree demeanor is back in the blink of an eye.

“Like strip poker? Sure.”

“I was thinking UNO, actually.”

JJ snickered. A Pogue boy and a Kook girl, playing card games over beer and pizza. To him, it almost sounded like the beginning of a joke. 

He shrugs and takes the cards from her hands.

“Fine. But I’m dealing.”

-

(Three weeks of silence pass before she comes in through the window. Hooks her fingers around his belt. He tugs on the knot of her dress and lets it fall onto the floor, leaving her deceptively vulnerable, but he’s not fooled by her lack of bite.

She kisses him first, wiping away all questions he might have had. She’s given in, but he won’t push it. His hands ghost over her neck, the curve of her waist, lips trailing lower and lower and lower.

When it’s over, she turns her back to him.

“This changes nothing.”

Rafe stares at the empty spot on his bed as he listens to the sound of her footsteps disappear.)

-

So, JJ Maybank finds himself in the most unusual of situations.

He tends Mrs. Rhodes garden 3 to four days a week. He’s not an expert when it comes to caring for roses (his summer gigs usually involve less delicate matters), but he’s handy enough with the last-generation lawn mower that the old lady lets him keep the job. Whenever he’s there, Genevieve Braden brings him cold drinks and snacks like clockwork, and he reluctantly accepts her offers to hang out at her place after he's done.

She is a bit harder to figure out than JJ ever thought she would be, but once you got past her typical Kook... kookness, she's actually cool to hang out with. He doesn’t make it a habit to associate himself with Figure 8 residents, but he decides to make an exception for her. He honestly can’t remember half the things they talk about, but it’s nice. Really nice.

It’s been a few weeks and he’s managed to pick up a grand total of five things about her:

1 - She really, _really_ likes her own jokes.

2 - For some reason, she only ever uses her couch to lean on while sitting on the floor.

3 - She smokes when she’s stressed.

4 - If JJ ever owned a bar, he’d totally hire her because she makes _the best_ cocktails in the world, and she can never be seen without one in her hands.

5 - She was the world’s _worst_ cook.

He hadn’t been really expecting number five - Genevieve had told him she basically lived alone, so you’d figure she’d pick up a life skill such as basic culinary, right?

Wrong.

Under the blazing summer day, Gen gleefully strolls up the road, a big tote bag tilting her shoulder down. As she gets closer, JJ can spot the neck of a wine bottle peaking out. He thinks about shouting her name and beckoning her to him, but she starts walking his way before he can. Gen is panting a little, and her cheeks are rosy from the sun. It’s a good look on her, he thinks as she catches her breath. 

“You’re never going to guess what I’m doing today.”

JJ knows she’ll spill in a minute, but he decides to humor her anyway. “Hmm. Judging by the amount of stuff cramped in that bag and the fact that you’re in a pretty dress... either a bomb or a masquerade.”

That brings a smile to her face, and she hands him a water bottle. He chugs it immediately.

“Close enough”, she fixes her hair. “I found this cheesy sun-dried tomato risotto recipe that’s supposed to be super easy _and_ delicious! -” She goes on telling him what she’s going to and how she’ll do it, and she’s right, it _does_ sound really easy and delicious. His stomach growls in anticipation.

When he lets himself inside a couple of hours later (he’s over often enough that Genevieve just leaves the door open for him now), JJ finds her sitting on the floor, hair in a perfectly slick low bun, takeout chicken and egg rolls transferred to expensive china.

The house smelled like burned rice, and the ashtray in the center table was nearly full.

JJ narrows his eyes. “So you _did_ make a bomb”, he accuses.

Gen rolls her eyes and sighs, defeated. “Okay, so it wasn’t as simple as I thought it would be.“ JJ sits down across from her. “And maybe I put too much water in.” She chews on her lip, “and I _might_ have tried to fix it by leaving it longer on the stove. Only to find out that I actually put in the right measure of water and that _yes_ , it’s supposed to look really liquid-y and then slimy, but by then it was too late.”

“Jesus, Gen, it _was_ as simple as you thought! How do you even mess this up?” He laughs at her frustration.

“I mean, the wine is still good,” she shrugs. “Come on, how was I supposed to know? I’ve never really cooked before.”

JJ pops the bottle open. He’s never drunk wine, but he’s sure Genevieve picked something nice and expensive. “So you live off Chinese takeout and booze?”

“And chamomile tea. It’s my second favorite drink.” She nods solemnly as he fills her glass. “Did I ever tell you about the time I had microwaved popcorn for lunch and dinner for a whole month?”

-

“It’s not that the brownies are bad, Gen. They’re just a little... raw.”

“Shut up and eat your brownie.”

-

“This is going to work.”

“Genevieve...”

“What? I screwed up with the quiche, I know. Big deal. But I promise I got everything right this time.”

“Ever since you burned that risotto, you’ve been trying to make up for it by making Frankenstein food. It's really not that big of a deal. We can order something from that Chinese place you like. You remember what happened to the muffins, right?”

“JJ, they were _muffins_ ! This is _pie_. Seriously. All I’m asking for is a _little_ faith. I’ve got this.”

“Gen -”

“ _What_ , JJ? If you don’t believe me, fine. But I’ll let you know this is going to be the best pie you’ve ever tasted, and you’ll regret -”

“Do you smell the smoke?”

_“Oh my God!”_

-

After weeks of uncooked pasta and soggy vegetables and sugarless cakes, JJ ends up very much convinced Genevieve Braden was actively trying to kill him with her culinary experiments. One day, when he decides his body just can’t take it anymore, he takes it upon himself to teach her how to make at least one dish that wouldn’t give them both food poisoning.

Despite his good intentions, Gen does not seem very pleased with him telling her what to do.

“What, you’ve been a chef all this time and kept it a secret from me?” 

“No, but you refuse to order food and I’m _starving_ , so we have to at least make something edible. Work with me, Genevieve. Gen. Princess. My body is turning on itself.” His stomach growls as if to prove his point. “I can’t cook much either, but I promise my cookies are good.”

She looks about to say something, but she holds it back and merely huffs loudly. “Alright.”

“Alright?” He grins and stretches out a hand to mess up her hair. She shoves it away, but JJ knows she’s not really angry; There’s a telltale sign that she wants to laugh despite her annoyance barely showing in the corner of her mouth.

“ _Alright_ , JJ. I’ll go get the ingredients.” She rolls her eyes and turns away, but not quick enough.

JJ spots the smile.

-

Cooking, Gen decides, is the most stressful hobby ever. 

Not that it’s actually her hobby, since she’s only tried it a couple of times and the outcome had never been anything other than disastrous. But her pride won’t let her quit until she manages to make something good - not even good, at this point she’d be fine with _okay, this is chewable._ And she has to admit, the mortified look on JJ’s face when he comes in and realizes that she’s butchered a new recipe is just priceless.

She likes having him around. He’s easy to talk to and funny, and he makes her feel less alone in her own home even if he’s also annoying sometimes. It’s been a while since she’s enjoyed anyone’s company so much.

“You’re doing it wrong. How does someone mix ingredients in a bowl wrong? This is pathetic, my liege.”

Gen groans in frustration and glares at him. _Yes, very annoying sometimes._ “How do I do it right then?”

“It’s a whisk, Gen. Whisk it.”

“Don’t patronize me!”

“I’m not!” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “You want a demonstration?”

She sighs and nods. JJ smugly cracks his knuckles, then comes up behind her and takes her hand. 

“First, hold it like this - no, not that way - okay.” His fingers tighten on her wrist. It’s not unlike him to do things like this sometimes, like leaning in as if to see how she’ll react. But Gen is no blushing girl-next-door, so she meets his gaze without faltering. JJ moves their hands in circular motion, speed increasing and the ingredients mixing together more smoothly. His hand is warm and calloused, she notes, and it engulfs her own like a glove. The rings on his fingers - thumb, ring and pinkie - feel cold and smooth against her skin.

“Okay?” JJ’s fingers briefly, slightly, tighten around her wrist. There is a soft inhale just next to her ear. She blinks, and he lets go. 

“Show me again.”

He dutifully repeats the motions, wrapping her hand around the handle and giving instructions once more. Gen nods and pays close attention.

Even though she got it the first time.


	3. Chapter 3

Rafe is late.

He’s always late, despite bragging nonstop about that fancy watch he got as a birthday gift from his dad. A family heirloom, he’d told her.

He had managed to convince her to take the boat out today. _Come on Gen, for old times sake. I’ll pick you up at ten, and we’ll spend the day in the water, just the two of us._

The clock on the kitchen wall marks 10:37 AM.

Of course, Rafe could make her wait thirty seconds or thirty minutes or thirty hours, just because he knows she would.

He’s always late and she’s always waiting.

A knock on her door shakes her out of her thoughts. “It’s open”, she shouts, and he comes in quickly. 10:45.

“Hey, I got caught up with some stuff. My dad’s grilling me about those generators and you know how he can get.”

She says nothing, eyes trained on the empty cup of tea in her hands. _Should’ve spiked it,_ she thinks as she puts it down on the sink. Gen hears - _feels -_ him come closer. “I haven’t seen you around much”, he half-whispers in her ear, hand ghosting just over her hip. Her breath hitches a little. “Where have you been, Gen?”

She turns around to face him. He’s a good head taller than her, so she cranes her neck a little to meet his eyes. “Does it matter?”

Rafe hesitates for a moment, but doesn’t look away. In this lighting, the blue of his eyes reminds her of a storm. The silence stretches between them like a rubber band. If she concentrated, she thinks she could hear his heartbeats. He purses his lips. “No.”

Gen raises an eyebrow, and Rafe twirls a section of her hair around his index finger. His voice comes out a bit raspy and unsure. “So… I realized I never apologized for... you know. That day. At my house.” He swallows. “Not in person, at least. I -”

She doesn’t let him finish. Gen fists her hand on his shirt and kisses him, because she might be trapped between his chest and the kitchen isle, but _she’s_ the one in control. “Don’t sweat it”, she says as she pulls away. This subject was a closed matter to her, and she’s not in the mood for an argument. “But don’t do it again. Ever.”

Rafe knows better than to challenge her. Instead, he hoists her up into a sitting position, and steps between her legs. She doesn’t resist him; She never has. Gen shuts her eyes as he litters her skin with wet kisses, and lets her hands wonder and explore his body. But when she tugs him closer with her ankles and his hand knocks something over - a cup, a pan, a plate, she can’t really tell - she suddenly feels suffocated.

“Rafe.” Her hands press against his chest. He doesn’t look like he heard her, so she pushes him harder. “Rafe. Not here.”

He stops, lips swollen, hair messy, confusion twisting his features. He’s not used to being refused. Gen kisses him again before he can ask why.

She fixes her hair and hops off the counter top. “We should go.”

-

“I brought the juice boxes and the carrot sticks!” Kie singsongs happily as JJ holds out a hand to help her into the boat.

“I bet it’s a girl”, John B snickers as he takes the cooler from her hand.

“Did you really? I’m starving.” Pope sits next to her and tries to peek inside her bag. Kiara snatches it away with a laugh.

“So, what are we talking about?”

“We’re speculating on the reason behind JJ’s disappearance.” Pope reaches for the bag again. “Seriously, did anybody bring _any_ food?”

There’s not a single cloud in the sky, and he can feel his skin burning under the midday sun. As if she could read his mind, Kie tosses him a tube of sunscreen.

JJ knows he hasn’t been around as much lately. Between work and the time he spends with Gen, he’s had to decline a few calls and ignore some texts, and he knew sooner or later someone would question him.

Unfortunately, his friends had made it sooner.

Kiara raises her brows. John B opens the cooler and hands her a beer.

“As I was saying, JJ here has been ditching us for a secret girlfriend.”

“And as _I_ was saying, there’s no girlfriend”, he snatches the bottle from John B’s hand, “I told you guys, I got a job.”

“What kind of job?” Kie chips in. Pope had found a granola bar at the bottom of her bag and was trying to eat it as slowly as possible.

“I’m working as a gardener for this old Kook lady. Can we just drop it?”

John B snorts. “So you’re telling me an old lady has you busy all day, four days a week? Please, tell more.”

Kie bursts out laughing, and JJ decides to go along with it. He feels a pang of guilt lying to his friends, but for some reason he doesn’t want to tell anyone about Gen just yet. 

_Just another little half truth,_ says a voice in the back of his mind that sounds suspiciously like his father’s. JJ shrugs it away. “Meh, what can I say? Moms _do_ love me.” He winks at Pope, who in turn chokes on a piece of granola.

“Okay, gross.” Kie puts on an earphone.

“Jesus, can we keep _my_ mom out of this?”

John B looks about to say more, but something distracts him. JJ follows his gaze to a boat coming in their direction. It’s sleek and elegant, and the sun reflecting on its lustrous surface makes him squint his eyes.

“The things I’d do for one of those...” John B trails off.

“Guys, I wouldn’t stare too much. It’s Rafe and his girlfriend.” Kie’s tone is disdainful.

It’s JJ’s turn to choke. _She’s not his girlfriend._

Lazily lounging in the bow, Genevieve Braden is the picture of luxurious tranquility, a fruity cocktail - surely made by herself - in one hand as the other adjusted her slightly too big sunglasses. Behind her, Rafe Cameron looks like a wolf on a leash.

It’s not like JJ doesn’t know about them. Hell, he’d met Gen in less than ideal circumstances _because_ of Rafe, in a way. Still, actually seeing them together sends a wave of something he can’t quite put his finger on to his chest. He tries to associate the person in this fancy, million dollar yacht with her preppy _not_ -boyfriend with the girl who brings him refreshments at work and bakes him terrible brownies, but Genevieve the Kook and Gen his friend seem to exist in completely different worlds.

Briefly, JJ wonders if she would be embarrassed to be seen with him.

She spots him before he can look away. A smile stretches across her face, and she salutes him with two fingers before Rafe picks up the speed and passes them unceremoniously. JJ’s heart leaps to his throat.

His hopes of no one noticing the small gesture are soon shattered by John B’s strangled laugh.

“So you _do_ have a girl,” he slaps his knee. “But she’s Rafe’s girl. What the hell, man.”

“Wait, isn’t that the girl from the kegger? The one -”

_Shit,_ he winces.

“JJ.” Kie gapes at him, struggling to form words. “Please tell me _girl_ doesn’t mean _Genevieve Braden_.”

He says nothing. All eyes are on him now, everyone expecting an explanation he can’t quite formulate. 

“For the love of - _ugh!_ ” She sounds both angry and exasperated. “What is it _with_ you guys and Kook royalty?”

Pope looks offended. “I never - “

“You said -" John B stammers.

“John B, I might’ve made my piece with Sarah, but you were still a real asshole about that.” Kie cuts them off. She turns to JJ. “Out of all the people you could’ve gotten involved with, did it _have_ to be cokehead Ken and alcoholic Barbie?”

“She’s not his girlfriend!” JJ snaps, and then adds when he sees her expression, “And she’s not mine either, okay?”

“JJ, evil takes human form in Genevieve Braden.”

“What, you’re quoting Mean Girls on me now?”

“You watched _Mean Girls_ with _her_?” Kie looks like she might just explode.

“ _Dude_ ”, Pope hisses behind him.

“She was just horrible to me in school! Like, she was Sarah’s best friend and she always made it _so_ hard to be around them!”

“Look, I met her a few weeks ago on the beach. She was drunk and alone and Rafe had just pushed her down the stairs and I couldn’t just leave her there to drown, okay?” JJ blurts out.

John B looks shocked. “He did _what?_ ”

“So what, you lied about the job? You’ve been ditching us for _her_ the entire time?” She hisses.

“No! Would you just let me finish?”

Kie looks at him expectantly, eyebrows high on her forehead, good mood completely gone now. JJ sighs and messes with his hair. 

“I bumped into her again at that kegger. She was hurt and couldn’t go to the hospital, so I helped her and she told me about a job offer in her neighborhood. And I took it, obviously, ‘cause it’s really good money, and yeah, I talk to her after I’m done because she’s actually really cool.”

For a moment, she just stares. Kie is not even hurt - she’s unmistakably angry.

“You know, I never expected this from you, JJ.” She looks at Pope. “Pull over. I’m getting out.”

JJ clenches his fists. “I just made a friend! What should I do, just grunt at her when she comes to talk to me?” 

She’s already got one foot on the pier when she turns around to look at him.

“She’s going to hurt you,” she spits out, “and you’re gonna regret this.”

-

A few days later, JJ still can’t think straight.

He doesn’t know what to do. His friends think he’s a jerk, Kie refuses to see him. And he’s helping Genevieve fold her laundry in the living room. Like a jerk. He’s even tied one of her bikini tops over his shirt. He thought it would be funny, but he feels pathetic.

“Oh, you’re exquisite. You must let me paint you”, she chuckles.

Usually, he took pride in making her laugh. He’d dance, whip out his worst impression of her - give her posh accents and a stompy walk, all swinging hips and mock finesse - just because her smile was _that_ striking. But today, he’s feeling sulky. He sipped his expensive, tasteless gin. _I never expected this from you._

If JJ had stopped 0.74 seconds more to think about his response, he would’ve cancelled it.

“Gen, what’s your deal with Rafe?”

He sees the exact moment her shoulders stiffen. She frowns at him. “Why do you ask?”

JJ purses his lips. He doesn’t want to screw things up with his remaining friend, but he needs to get it out of his chest. “Well, you know... I just realized you don’t tell me much about yourself. Like your thing with Rafe. Or what happened with Sarah.”

Immediately, Gen’s expression sours. “You know more about me than those two ever will,” she deadpans. “What are you doing, JJ? Is this about that day on the boat?” She doesn’t try to conceal her annoyance. He’s come to realize that the Camerons are a touchy subject to her. 

“As a matter of fact, yes, it’s about that day.” He sighs, “When you... y’know, greeted me or whatever, Kie figured out that we’re friends.”

“Are you embarrassed of me or something? You’d rather I ignore you in public?” Her frown deepens. He could have laughed - he’d wondered the same thing about her. 

“Of course not! It’s not that at all!” Why couldn’t he just say the words right? He clenches his jaw so hard his teeth hurt. “It’s just that Kie said you were horrible to her, and I can’t get that out of my mind.”

“If by _‘Kie’_ you mean Kiara Carrera, then yes. I wasn’t the friendliest to her when she was at the Academy, but she _was_ stealing my best friend, so I didn’t feel like I had to be.” She scoffs. “And it’s not like I was _‘horrible’_ either, for fuck’s sake. And that was _ages_ ago!

“I don’t want to offend you, princess,” he says, “but I’ve known Kie for like, forever. And that’s not something she would do.”

Gen scowls, and crosses her arms defensively in front of her chest. “Oh? So what do you think happened? Enlighten me, please, since you seem to know much better than I do.”

JJ purses his lips and takes off the bikini. He couldn’t believe the mess he’d gotten himself into. Jesus, even his nickname for her had come out wrong. “I think”, his tone is careful as he sets the top down in the basket, “I think that Sarah hurt you. She hurt you, and you took it out on Kie, who did _nothing_ to deserve it. She was an outcast in that place. She’s not as rich as you and your friends and you made her feel even worse about herself because she was an easy target and you -” he stops.

Gen raises her brow. She challenges him to go on, to call her something, anything, but his lips won’t move. She fixes her perfect ponytail and suddenly, the floor seems like the most interesting thing in the world. She blinks rapidly, refusing to meet his eyes. 

_Please don’t cry,_ he begs her in his mind. He doesn’t trust his mouth to carry the message anymore. _I don’t know what I’ll do if I make you cry_.

“Yes”, she says, finally. “Sarah hurt me. And now, you hurt me too.”

Gen gets up abruptly and picks up the half-done basket. She turns her back to him. “I’ll go put these away”, she says, and disappears into the second floor.

He smacks his own forehead. _Shit. Shit, I messed up._ He wants to go after her, to take it back, _please let me take it back._ But he knows he can't, and like Kie, he just watches her walk away.

Sitting alone on the hardwood floor, JJ thinks that he might actually be the one to cry.

-

Gen has kept a bottle of Bacardi stashed under her bed since she was fifteen.

She had no need to hide her spirits - the liquor cabinet in the kitchen was always stocked, and her father couldn’t be bothered with her teenage antics, so Gen regularly indulged on whichever expensive bottle she wanted.

This one, though, she reserved only for dreadful occasions.

It had gotten her through her best friend’s betrayal and her mother’s death and her father’s rejection. There’s an obvious pattern there, she knows, and she probably should try some healthier coping mechanisms. Maybe she should see a therapist. It hurts a bit to think that Rafe was right, that she _is_ a coward who drinks her problems away.

But as she stomps her way up to her bedroom, laundry spilling out of her basket and JJ’s accusations ringing in her ear, Gen just can’t bring herself to care. She chugs out of the bottle. 

For what feels like hours Gen lay down on the floor, not entirely sure if the bitter taste in her mouth is just the alcohol. Who gave him the right? Who told JJ Maybank he was allowed to pick at her scabs, to tell her she hadn’t gotten them the way she did? Her hand comes up angrily, swipes at something wet on her cheek. Her mind swirls with echoes she’s tried to bury, with snapshots of her worst moments. Gen wills them away. She doesn’t want to think about it.

So she does the next thing she always does when she needs a distraction.

She reaches for her phone and calls Rafe.

-

Burning kisses and splayed limbs and body heat. Their breathing is heavy, fragmented, hitched -

-

Gen lights her cigarette.

Rafe’s sheets are egyptian cotton. He’d told her that once, in a feeble attempt at small talk, and for some reason the fact had lingered on her mind. They feel soft and familiar against her bare skin, and she’s mindful of her hand, holding it away from the bed.

Gen feels horrible. 

He had managed to keep her mind (and her body) busy for a couple of hours, but now she’s there again, folding clothes and having her mistakes thrown at her face, and she‘s unable to get away. She replays JJ’s words over and over, reliving her memories repeatedly. It’s torturous and painful, and she can’t seem to stop.

But worst of all, Gen thought, was the dawning realization that he was right.

Gen had punished Kiara for something she didn’t do - couldn’t possibly have done. In her mind, Kiara had stolen her best friend, but she’s becoming unbearably aware that people cannot be stolen. Gen thinks of JJ, her most unlikely and yet most treasured friend, and how she could never, would never steal him from his Pogue group. It would have been impossible even if she’d wanted to - her Kook friends would never have the ability to steal her away from JJ either.

Genevieve had hurt her, and never took a second to think about her own actions. She was just as bad as Sarah, if not worse. It made her sick.

The bed dipped under Rafe’s weight. “- so, what do you think?”

“Huh?”

“Did you hear anything I just said?”

“Not really, no.” She takes a puff of her cigarette.

Rafe shifts closer to her. He faintly grins at her monotone, as if she’d said something cute and endearing. She purses her lips.

“I was talking about Midsummers. It’s soon.” He’s expectant, like he wants her to figure out the rest by herself. His hand tries to slip into hers, and Gen pretends she doesn’t notice, lifting it up to tuck her hair behind her ear.

She reaches for her shirt and nods, waiting for him to go on. “I thought we - what are you doing?”

“I’m listening.”

“You just got here, Gen”, he stares at her shimming up her skirt.

“I’ve been here for hours, Rafe.”

“You could stay.” 

Gen pops her neck. He’s trying to blurry that line again, the one he’d always been so adamant to keep clear. She doesn’t get it. She takes no pleasure in disappointing him, but she won’t let him get his hopes up. This is supposed to be a calming place, an escape, and the muddyness of feelings will taint it.

She thinks about laying back down and trying to forget again, but staying feels like digging her grave.

In any case, she has a few wrongs to right.

“I can’t,” she says as she fixes her hair. Gen jams her cigarette in the ashtray on his nightstand. Rafe doesn’t smoke. She knows he put it there for her. “I have something to do.”

-

Rafe’s back hits the wall as Genevieve all but throws herself at him. His free arm wraps immediately around her waist instead of trying to steady them.

She had arrived like a storm, angry and demanding at his door. He can tell there’s something she wants to forget, and she can always trust him to lick her wounds.

Her mouth closes over his in a kiss that’s maybe half teeth, blazing and hard and desperate. A hand curls behind his neck, fingers threading through the hair at the back of his head, nails dragging against his skin.

At some point, they end up in his bed, Rafe’s face buried into her hair, her knees bearing into his ribs. Hot breaths steam in the crook of his neck. _I’m close,_ she tells him, even though she doesn’t need to. He’s learned her body like a second language, and he knows how to make her arch into his touch, how to make her cries go cracked and breathy. He knows how to tell when she’s near to unraveling.

She kisses his collarbone and pulls him closer, impossibly so, and mumbles in his ear. _Don’t stop, Rafe, I’m yours._

But in a moment of terrifying clarity, he knows that’s not true. 

She’s only his within the limits of a bed. A shower, occasionally, or sometimes the desk in the office. Whispering it like _that_ almost tricks him into believing it's real, and it angers and scares him how badly he wants it to be.

She proves him right, of course. The shivers disappear, and she stares at the wall when he asks her to come to Midsummers with him and he knows that wherever she is, it’s not here with him.

_I love you,_ he thinks, and wonders if she can see it in his face.

She looks away.

_Stay,_ he pleads, trying to reach out and touch her.

But she’s already gone.


	4. Chapter 4

‘The Wreck’ is undeniably an Outer Banks institution. Not that Gen had ever been there; She’d never had a reason to. But it was popular enough with the tourons that it was well known and talked about.

Gen hesitates at the door before walking in. It’s not a busy day, and somehow that makes her even more nervous. She hurries to the line before she can talk herself into turning on her heel and running away, orders the first thing she spots on the menu - a banana milkshake - and asks the cashier if they could send Kiara to her. That, of course, earns her a frown and an indication of which section 'Kie’ is working today.

Gen chooses a table on the corner, away from the few other customers. She’s shaky enough as it is, her fingers irritatingly tapping her thigh, and she doesn’t really want an audience today. She has her face on her hands when her milkshake is put down in front of her a little more forcefully than necessary, spilling a little out of the cup. Gen jerks her head up.

Kiara is in an apron, a blue headband holding her hair, and a tray tucked under her arm, glaring down at her like Gen is the biggest inconvenience in the island with a look that said, _Well?_

Gen wipes the table with a napkin. “Hi”, is the best she can manage.

“What are you doing here?”

“I heard this place has the best banana shakes”, Gen swirls the liquid with a straw takes a sip, uncharacteristically sheepish. It’s actually good.

“Cut the crap, Braden. You _asked_ for _me._ Tell me what you want and stop wasting my time.”

Gen sighs and bites her lip self consciously. “You should sit.”

Kiara looks peeved. “ _Some_ of us have to work, you know,” but she pulls out a chair nonetheless. Gen nods. She brings the straw to her lips to keep her voice from sounding breathy.

“I’m here - I came here to apologize,” she starts. Her shoulders slump a little, and Kiara’s eyebrows nearly hit her hairline. 

Gen takes that as her cue to go on. “I wanted to… for how I treated you when you were at the Academy. I was hurt and selfish and childish. I blamed you for things you didn’t do. I took my frustrations out on you, and it was wrong. I was wrong.” She runs her fingers through her hair. “I’m so sorry, Kiara.” _I hope you can forgive me,_ she wants to say, but she doesn’t know if she deserves it.

They stare at each other for a moment. Gen’s throat feels dry and thick. She takes another sip of her milkshake - which is actually _really_ good - and it might be a trick of the light, but Kiara’s eyes seem to soften a little.

“You _were_ pretty shitty to be around”, she snorts.

“I know. And I’m sorry.” Gen swirls the liquid with the straw.

“So you’re done being pissed at me for ‘stealing your best friend’?”

Gen winces. “People can’t be stolen.”

She thinks she can see the faint beginning of a smile in the corner of Kiara’s lips. "Huh. Took you long enough. I mean, I’m pretty much over it now, but it’s still nice to hear you say it.” Is she imagining things, or is Kiara’s tone _teasing?_ “Ugh, I kind of feel like a jerk now.”

“What?” Gen blinks, stunned. 

“I know you’re... friends ”, she drags the word a little, like she’s not sure if she’s supposed to use it, “with JJ now. Got him a job and everything. And I _might_ have said some crappy things about you.” She says with a tentative, sheepish grin. Gen actually laughs at that.

“Oh, I know about that. That’s kind of what got me to, you know, realize I was a fucking asshole by being even more of an asshole to him. I actually still have to fix that.” She grimaces.

“Huh. You do that, then. If you hurt him, I’m coming for you”, Kiara says with narrowed eyes as she gets up. “But for now, I gotta get back to work. My dad’s going to _kill_ me.” She picks up the milkshake and wipes the table in a swift motion. Gen smoothes invisible creases in her skirt.

“And, Genevieve?” Kiara has her body turned away from her, balancing the tray with a single hand. Gen looks at her, half-expecting another threat. Instead, Kiara offers her the smallest of smiles.

“If I could forgive Sarah... maybe you can too.”

-

Gen was sitting on the roof.

JJ had been feeling, as of late, like shit.

If there was one thing that could make pretty much anyone feel like the world’s biggest ass, it was Kie’s silent treatment - which she had unmaskedly given him after their fight last week. It wasn’t really the ignoring itself, or the pointed glares she shot him before walking away when they passed each other on the street. What drove JJ absolutely crazy was knowing that Kie was hurt, and that she wouldn’t let him make it right.

But despite his own agony, he knew Kiara, and he knew that she needed her time, and eventually they would talk things through and he’d be able to finally apologize -

And Kie, as she did with most things, beat him to it.

He’d been alone in the Chateau (Pope had _‘summer homework’,_ John B was being very not sneaky about sneaking around with Sarah, and JJ never really felt like being home anyways) when Kie barged in, still wearing her work clothes, hair spilling out of her bun and _okay, so maybe I was kinda wrong about Braden. She was a total asshole, but maybe that’s not necessarily true anymore._

_“Kie! I’m so -”_

_“No,_ I’m _sorry.”_

He’d never tell anyone, but he wanted to cry tears of relief into her hair when she pulled him into a hug before he could say anything else. But, somehow, Kie always notices, and she strokes his hair and tightens their embrace. He could feel a weight lifting off his shoulders. 

But it wasn’t quite enough. His chest still hurt. He still needed to see Gen.

So that’s what brought him to Figure 8 on a day off, the sun beginning to set, and Gen was sitting on the roof.

From below, she looks every bit the princess he half-jokingly makes her out to be. She’s looking up like she’s waiting for something, hair draped behind her like a cloak, and if he squinted he could almost see a crown buried in her tresses.

JJ shuts his eyes to break the illusion. She’s no damsel, and he sure as hell is no prince charming.

“What are you doing here after hours?”

He jerks his head up. Gen is looking at him now, head cocked to the side. He might be getting a little bit short sighted, because he can’t tell if the corners of her lips are tilting up. He wants to believe they are. “I’m _always_ here after hours, Your Grace.” He gives her a weak smile. He’s not sure where they stand right now. JJ looks at her expectantly.

“Are you going to stay down there and stare at me, or will you come up?” When she sees him reach for the tree next to him, Gen breaks into a laugh, “The front door is open, JJ. Come upstairs, my room is the second to the left.”

He freezes, then nods, once, twice, three times, _yeah, alright,_ and promptly turns on his heel and walks around the yard. The house is immaculate, as usual, the only traces of anyone having been there were the empty glass of wine and a book in some language he didn’t understand - french, maybe? -, both discarded on the center table.

Well, at least he could always trust Gen to be Gen, he thinks as he makes his way up to the second floor. He’s never been up here before, and when he finds that second room, his mouth suddenly feels drier. He can instantly detect the scent of incense. He knows Kie likes it too, some Sandalwood or Eucalyptus always lingering on her clothes and hair. But Gen’s bedroom smells something between Lavender and Rose, and it feels _so_ very fitting. He fainty notes the shelves stacked with fancy literature and the messy sheets, but he’s so eager to see her that he climbs out the window before he can really pay attention to anything else.

As he bends his body and sits down, he’s careful not to knock over a bowl of, well, something, that Gen seems to be munching on.

“Finally! It’s already started.” She says without looking at him. Her eyes are trained in the sky, in the show of colors shining brilliantly red and orange over the Outer Banks’ skyline. He makes himself as comfortable as possible with his butt pressing on the shingles and pulls his legs up to his chest.

“JJ...” she breathes, after a moment. It's a soft little sound, and he almost misses it. 

“I was an asshole.” He blurts out before she can. “I accused you of shit, and I refused to listen, and I didn’t mean to say that you picked on Kie out of cruelty. I thought - no, I didn’t think. There was no thinking involved. I know you’re not that kind of person.” She looks taken aback, chewing on her lip, eyes wide. His voice quivers the tiniest bit. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re right. I’m not that kind of person. But I was.” She inhales sharply. “You made me realize that. Kiara was an easy target, and I was _mean._ So, thank you, in a way. And I’m sorry too.” He looks puzzled for a moment. “For not listening”, Gen clarifies. “I apologized to her, too.”

“I know. She told me.”

The sky is gold, all soft, and there’s just a hint of a chilly breeze. In the distance, he can hear birds singing. The whole thing feels scarily like a dream. JJ pinches his arm.

“So we’re good now?” Gen bats her lashes and he _melts._

“Yes, Your Highness, we’re good.”

He smiles at her, reaching for the bowl and grabbing a handful of whatever was inside. Which happened to be, apparently, the world’s grossest snack.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Genevieve”, he coughs it out, “is this fucking _bird food?_ ”

“Oh, smooth”, she cackles. “They’re sunflower seeds!”

“ _Why_ would you _eat_ that?”

Gen puts the bowl away, snickering. “They have benefits! Like, boosting heart health or something.”

“Oh yeah, to balance out your breakfast cigarettes. Or something.”

“Or something”, she smiles, inching closer to him. And their faces are so close now, more than ever before, and for a second there he thinks that she’s going to _kiss him_ and his heart catches on his throat -

Gen leans her head against his shoulder. He eases his breath out so she won’t realize he was holding it in the first place.

 _What_ the _hell_ , he thinks. Their knees are touching. JJ feels her sigh more than he hears it. Above them, the world turns purple, the clouds slightly tinted pink.

“This is my favorite part.”

He’s not sure if she’s really talking about the sky. He doesn’t dare ask, but they stay like that for a very long time. 

Even after the stars begin to show.

-

“Pay attention. Be careful.”

“Me? You be careful”, Gen tries her balance on the board.

The sea was calm today, a pleasant mix of wave and wind. A perfect day to learn how to surf, according to JJ and _no one else_.

They’d been hanging out by the pool when he had the idea, him in the water, her making Bloody Marys. The picture of domesticity.

“Those are _sick_ ,” he nodded at the wall. “Can I see?”

Gen shrugged. Her dad used to surf when he was young, and now his boards served as pretty items of themed decoration on the outside area of their house. She raised the glasses to show him the drinks were ready.

JJ whistled as he ran a hand through one board. “I didn't know you surfed?”

“Oh, no. Not me, thank you very much”, she laughed.

“What do you mean _no?_ You’re telling me these beauties are being just wasted lying around?” He scoffed, and she shrugged. “No, Your Grace, this is just criminal. We’re taking them for a spin _today._ Get up, we’re wasting daylight!”

Gen had protested a bit, without too much heart. They had been doing well, really well, and he looked so excited. JJ was easy to get along with, like it came naturally to her. He had brought them close to the pier, the one where they‘d met for the first time, the memories of that night as comfortable as an old joke between friends.

Now, as she got knocked over by the tide for the thirtieth time in the last hour, Gen regrets not having objected a _little_ harder.

“Okay! I give up!” She yelled as she kicked her legs in an attempt to reach her board. JJ was sitting on his, arms crossed, carelessly floating as if it were just that easy. The sun reflects on his skin and catches on his hair, and he looks just striking wearing only swimming shorts and a lazy smile. 

Gen hasn’t blushed because of a boy in so long she may have forgotten how to do it, but she looks away anyway because she is _not_ about to remember it now.

“Come on, princess, get back up. You can do it.” He laughs.

 _“JJ!”_ , exasperatedly.

“What? That’s how you learn!”

“Well, if by _learning_ you mean getting my ass handed to me by the ocean, I am freaking _tired_ of learning!” She pushes herself up on the board, flopping like a fish. Gen pulls wet hair away from her eyes. “I’m _exhausted!_ You’ve kept me here all day! My legs hurt, JJ. I hit my head on this thing at least twice, and I’m pretty sure I swallowed two pounds of kelp!”

“Okay, okay! But I promise when it gets good it gets really good. You’ll see! Seriously, try again.” He barely tries to hide his amusement.

“JJ, I’m starving!”, she cries out. “Can we please just go get dinner? I’m serious. And cold.” Gen encircles her body with her arms as if to demonstrate.

“Alright. Just do it one more time, then we can go.” She raises an eyebrow. JJ huffs. “I swear.”

Gen eyes him suspiciously, but she’s eager to leave and crouches, then stands, despite herself. She manages for more than a few seconds this time, which is really impressive considering her painfully slow progress. She nods to herself _alright, not so bad._

When Gen stays on top through a little turbulence, she breaks into laughter, “Oh my God, JJ! I’m _surfing!_ I’m a surfist! I -” and she’s back underwater again. She can hear him laughing derangedly as she surfaces, and Gen just _knows_ he didn’t warn her about the bigger wave coming on purpose.

“I didn’t catch what you said, Your Majesty.”

“Fuck _off._ ”

-

She drives them to The Wreck, of all places. JJ is both shocked and pleased as they make their way inside, and he raises an eyebrow when she orders a banana milkshake with her burger.

She only shrugs and tells him that they serve the best in town here.

Teaching Gen to surf had been the most fun he’d had in a while. Not because she’s any good at it - in fact, the one thing she can do better than surfing is cooking. But JJ finds pretty much everything she does amusing, and he likes her surprised yelps and snorted laughs and hissed curses. They fascinate him, like watching something forbidden.

"You two” Kie observes, “look like drowned rats.” 

She sets their order on the table and steals a handful of Gen’s fries as she pulls out a chair for herself.

-

Gen flips through the Netflix drama section and sucks on the lemon from her gin. She has a few hours to kill before JJ comes and tries to drag her to the sea, and Desperate Housewives would be just perfect to pass the time. Lynette and Tom Scavo are in the middle of a heated fight when she hears the door being unlocked. Gen doesn’t turn - she can’t miss this scene and JJ knows his way around.

“You do realize it’s not even noon yet?”

She freezes, wide eyed, then blinks to make sure she’s not imagining things.

Her father stands in the living room in a tailored suit, pulling at his thousand dollar tie and eyeing her drink condescendingly.

Gen can see his eyes are bloodshot. That’s just fucking _rich_ , she thinks. The shadows under his eyes are a matching set to the ones she hides so thoroughly with concealer every morning.

“What are you doing here?” 

“This is my house, Genevieve. I live here.”

“No, you don’t”, she spits out. “You live in New York, or LA, or D.C or wherever you feel like going to _not be here._ ”

He sighs, and it feels almost disdainful, like he’s dealing with a little child.

Gen hasn’t been a child for a long time. 

“I don’t have to explain myself for being in my own home.” He shakes his head, “But I have business in town. With your boyfriend’s father, mind you -”

“Boyfriend?” The word tastes metallic on her mouth.

“Yes, the Cameron boy. We’ll be having brunch tomorrow, and you are expected.”

She crosses her arms. _The little shit. I’m going to_ kill _him._ “Well, I’m not coming.” 

He crosses his arms in front of his chest. “You _are,_ Evie. You may be a careless brat, but you’re not stupid”, it comes out as a snarl, “You won’t bite the hand that feeds you. What I say is final.”

Gen clenches her jaw, her fists, nails piercing half moons into her palms. The nickname feels taunting. It brings back happy, faded memories of her mother brushing her hair and kissing her forehead softly. She hates it. _Do not call me that. You have no right to call me that._ Her father takes off his blazer and sets it on the nearest chair. “ _I’m_ still the one who makes the rules, even though you may have grown accustomed to doing whatever you want whenever you want it”

"Whose _fucking_ fault is that?” she cries out, but he’s already going up the stairs and doesn’t turn around to face her, the coward. She needs to get out - get out right now. She shuts her eyes furiously, trying to will away the tears that make her vision blurry. It doesn’t work. Gen stumbles out the door, on the porch, down the stairs.

“Hey! I got off a little early today. I was thinking we - are you okay?”

She blinks up at him. JJ is looking at her in confusion, in worry, and she won’t cry she won’t cry she won’t cry.

“Gen!” he yelps as she grabs his wrist and runs. He keeps up with her pace without too much struggle. His legs are much longer than hers, and she’s having trouble keeping her head up anyway. They stop by a large, tall oak tree, where a tire swing sways slowly back and forth in one of the lower branches. She lets go.

Gen crouches down, head on her hands, and wails.

JJ holds his breath. When her cries drop into a succession of dry sobs and hiccups, he kneels down next to her, a gentle hand on her back, “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

“My dad”, she states trough her teeth, “is a fucking asshole.”

JJ waits. She’s still staring at the ground beneath her, hands trying to put her hair back into place. “I think he’s the only one who can get me like this. He comes home once a month if I’m _‘lucky’_ and thinks he can suddenly act like a parent and boss me around and just be a fucking jerk.”

He nods, lightly tracing the outlines of her spine. Gen gives up on the bun and settles for tucking her hair behind her ear. “It’s just... it’s too much. It’s been like this since mom. First he broke out in tears every time he looked at me, and then he just couldn’t stand me and _left_. And then there’s Rafe, who won’t stop complicating things and making it so much worse and it’s just... too much.”

Gen lets out a single, heartbreaking, whimper. JJ stops touching her. He stares straight ahead with his jaw clenched tightly, his arms wrapped around his own body. After what feels like an eternity, he runs a hand through his hair and opens his mouth. Then closes it again. Finally, he says: “My dad’s an asshole too.” His voice quivers. It’s barely a whisper. Gen is silent, and he goes on despite himself. “The belligerent kind. The bully kind.” She looks at him through wet lashes. He holds her gaze. “The bruises - and I know you notice them but you’re just too nice to mention -” JJ has to pause here, steady himself. He blinks once. “They’re all his. I mean, mostly. I’m not exactly a pacifist myself. It's no big deal, though. Just, yeah. Just don’t tell anyone, okay?”

A cheeky grin. It doesn’t reach his eyes.

Indeed, she had noticed the faint black-and-blue marks, but never commented on it. She knew JJ got into a lot of fights, but she never thought to ask... She won’t shed any more tears, she decides. She knows JJ didn’t tell her this for pity, and Gen refuses to make him regret confiding in her. Instead, she pulls him into a tentative hug. He tightens his arms around her, clinging to her body like a child, burying his face in the crook of her neck.

“Your secret is safe with me”. She says against his ear, and trusts him to understand. _In this place right here between us, you can say anything, and I will not abandon you._ She feels him let go, warm tears leaving wet spots in her shirt.

_Your secret is safe with me._

_You’re safe with me._


	5. Chapter 5

Her ponytail is too tight. The sun feels too strong on her back, the sound of forks scraping against plates too aggressive for her ears, Rafe’s hand too heavy on her thigh. Gen hates everything about this. And her ponytail is too tight. She spent an hour in her vanity trying to make it smooth and perfect, and now it’s _too fucking tight._

Thank God for bottomless mimosas, she thought.

Gen crosses one leg over the other in a way that forces Rafe to pull away from her. She glances at him from the corner of her eye and sees that he looks as pained as she feels in his dress shirt and stiff posture. Good. It’s his fault they’re in this mess that is Sarah-staring-at-them-as-his-stepmom-chats-up-Gen’s-dad and she’s glad he has the decency to be miserable too. 

There’s some satisfaction in that. A small one, but she’ll take what she can get.

The fact that she’s starving was also not helping her mood in the slightest. That shouldn’t even be a problem, because the Kildare County Country Club was known to serve the best Sunday brunch on the island, but her smoked salmon baguette feels tasteless in her mouth. Rose is inspecting her nails now, artificially long and bright colored, and Wheezie is focused on her phone, not touching her food.

Next to them, Sarah is still staring. She looks at Gen and Rafe like they’re ticking bombs, as if they are about to start yelling at each other or making out on the table. Gen thinks she might just do it (whichever option she felt more like; probably the first) out of spite.

Sighing, instead, Gen accepts her sixth - seventh? she wasn’t really paying attention - cocktail from the waiter hovering over her.

“My beautiful daughter”, says her father across the table, “barely seventeen and already an alcohol abuser.” 

His tone suggests that it’s supposed to be humorous, but Gen can feel the snide edge in his voice. Everyone at the table suddenly looks uncomfortable. _Like it's not your fucking fault,_ she thinks, and then decides that it doesn’t really matter. She won’t put on a costume, won’t stitch a mask to her face so she can please him. She’s been past that for a long time now.

Gen winks at him like it’s a little joke between them.

“Genevieve, dear, how do you like the éclairs?” is Rose Cameron’s high pitched question. She proceeds to try to make conversation (Wheezie hasn’t looked away from the phone yet, and Sarah hasn’t said a word), in a weak attempt to break the tension, all _Oh, dear, what career paths do you have in mind?_ To which her father responds that she will be working for the family company, and _Oh, your dress is marvelous! Where did you get it?_

Gen doesn’t mind; she _will_ probably be working for the company after college, even if it’s annoying that her father cuts her off like it’s his call, and her dress _is_ marvelous, she knows. Rose, if a little tiresome, makes for a good distraction from Rafe’s leg bobbing up and down at her side and from her own increasing frustration.

But then: “Genevieve, you’re _such_ a sweetheart! I’m really glad that Rafe _finally_ found a nice girl like you to help him settle down. You two look so great together!”

Rafe chokes on his drink. His leg goes still. Gen sets her glass down a little too forcefully and catches her father’s sharp eye, though there is not the slightest stumble in conversation.

He’s Talking Business with Ward now, and Gen’s little tantrums do not come before that. _Very well then,_ she thinks, and stands up.

“May I be excused”, she says, and it comes out more statement than question.

She doesn’t wait for an answer.

Outside, Gen takes one, two, three deep breaths, all of them quivering with anger and frustration but her head is still pounding. She pulls out a cigarette from her bag. One, two, three, long drags but her hands are still shaking.

So she throws the half-smoked thing on the floor and stomps on it mercilessly.

When she’s done, she pulls herself together and smoothes her hair and dress. Rafe, who had managed to catch up and planted himself next to her at some point during her little fit is staring at her like - well, like she had just beaten a cigarette butt to a pulp. She scowls at him.

“What the fuck, Rafe.”

“Don’t _what the fuck Rafe_ me, Gen. You’re the one who refused to say a word to me all day and then stormed off and left everyone gaping at the table!”

“Well, did you expect me to say? ‘Oh, yes, Rafe and I are so lucky to be in this very sweet and understanding arrangement. We’re also very communicative, and we’ve decided that we’ll name our two future children after his father and mine’?”

She crosses her arms aggressively. Rafe rocks back and forth on his heel, like he’s ready to pounce. “God, why do you have to be so frustrating?” he runs his hands through his hair.

“I—me? _I_ am frustrating? You’ve got to be the most infuriating person in this whole fucking island!”

“Look, this wasn’t my idea, Gen.” He sighs. “I didn’t mean this to happen this way-”

“So you do admit it was your fault?”

“Why does it need to be anyone’s fault, Gen?”

“Because it’s not mine!” she cries out. “You knew I didn’t want this - this whole brunch and parents thing! But _you_ went ahead and got your dad involved, which in turn got _my_ father involved! And now look where we are!” Gen waves her hands around them.

“Gen, why won’t you just talk to me about things instead of blowing up and stomping out?” Rafe pinches the bridge of his nose. She can tell that he’s trying to keep himself calm, to level his head, but she wants to burst with rage.

 _This time,_ she thinks. _This time might be the one where I push too far._

“What’s with you and saying that you want to talk but then just deciding everything by yourself? You’re always the one who’s wronged, aren’t you? Me, Sarah, your dad. _We’re_ always the bad guy and _you_ the poor little victim.” Her voice is almost venomous.

“It’s because you never _listen!_ ” he steps closer, features twisting in frustration. Then he does the worst thing he could possibly have thought of.

Rafe pulls her by the waist and kisses her.

It’s like second nature to them. The sky is blue, grass is green. Rafe kisses Gen and she kisses him back. It doesn’t last more than a moment, this time.

This time, Gen breaks them apart with a shove. They’re still close, enough for her to feel his breath in her face. “No, Rafe, you’re the one who doesn’t _fucking_ listen.”

She can see his eyes narrowing slightly, mouth curling with affliction. The anxious quiver of his lip. She thought herself detached once, but she still needs to look away. She hates herself for being a coward again, for not looking him in the eye before she leaves. But she can’t bear to do so, and this cannot go on.

What they have - what they are, whatever it was, was doing more harm than good. And it could not go on.

“I’m done, Rafe.” She puts more distance between them.

He clenches his jaw. Normally, she’d raise her hand and touch it, because she could. She keeps her arms tight at her sides.

“What are you saying?”, a strained sound.

She exhales. One more push.

He reaches for her hand, “Gen, come on-”

“This is your mess. You clean it up.”

As she makes her way to her car, she doesn’t look back. She doesn’t see him kick the flowers decorating the patio and she doesn’t see him hit his head with his palm once, twice, three times.

She does not see tears bursting from his eyes like water breaking a dam.

-

Rafe Cameron has always been a daddy’s boy.

He had always felt this urge to be like his father. To do what his father did, to talk like his father talked. Even in his oldest, most faded memories, he’s always looking up to Ward Cameron. His father was, to put it mildly, his favorite person.

As Rafe grew older, that proved not to be exactly reciprocated.

He is three and a half when his sister is born. He faintly recalls thinking that she was very tiny, and very loud. Sarah, to his displeasure, was also a complete daddy’s little girl.

For his fifth birthday he asks for a pony. His dad finds his request amusing, and Rafe is disappointed when he gets a coloring book. For some reason, Sarah gets new dolls, and he sulks because it’s _his_ birthday, and this little loud whiny thing has no business getting presents today.

When he’s six, he wishes that his dad would teach him how to fish. Dad says he’ll make time, soon. Instead, Rafe gets a new sister. Wheezie is not his mom’s kid, like Sarah, because their mom is gone and he has to _shut up about this, Rose will get upset._

Nine years and no granted wishes later, Rafe turns fifteen, and has his first growth spurt. His father stops hugging him.

He’s sixteen the first time he meets Genevieve Braden. She’s Sarah’s best friend (because _everything_ seems to be about Sarah) and by association, a fucking pain in the ass. He makes it a point not to pay attention to this girl, even though she’s somehow just about everywhere he looks now.

Two years later, they collide like a supernova.

He’s much taller now, and already a _fucking cokehead,_ in little miss perfect - Sarah’s words. His father only ever looks at him with scorn or disappointment anymore. But this girl has a way of making him feel... tranquil. Like finding shade on the hottest day of summer.

Sarah’s birthday party. Genevieve hands her a little box, wrapped in sparkly pink paper with a bow on top, and goes up to Rafe’s room. He allows himself to smirk at his sister, because now it’s about _him._ She only comes out when they hear the cops coming.

For some reason he can’t remember to save his life, Rafe had never wanted to _be_ with her, and she had no hope nor intention to tie him down nor to leave him.

(He remembers the fighting, though, and the yelling and the pushing and the arguing.)

Now, when he desperately wants to hold her, to keep her, he can feel her slip like sand through his fingers.

 _Where you claw, I bite,_ she’d told him once. They had a rhythm, a frequency they shared. It was his mistake to believe that it would bend to fit his feelings.

He’s falling for her, agonizingly descending into the abyss, arms outstretched, and he wants her to catch him, save him, _please_ save him. But she turns around and refuses to take a step closer to the edge.

He doesn’t understand her. Less now than he did when she first kissed him on that bonfire so long ago. Why does she get sharper as he gets softer?

Rafe can see it now, as she pulls away from him with a shove. His mess.

It was his mistake not realizing that the tranquility he cherished was only the calm before the storm.

-

“I’m not sure if you care, Braden, but you’re a bit overdressed.” Kiara tells her with a crooked brow.

Kie had not been entirely surprised to see Genevieve in her parents’ restaurant on a Sunday afternoon. Not even, really, that she’d barged in huffing and puffing and looking around like a child who lost their mom in the mall.

What shocked her was that JJ Maybank was nowhere in sight. The two had been ridiculously attached at the hip lately, and their visits to The Wreck after a day on the beach were frequent enough that she expected them just about anytime.

Gen waves a hand in mock dismissal. Her face resolves itself into a grin by default, inoffensive and alluring at the same time. “It’s just a _marvelous_ dress, isn’t it?” there’s an edge to her voice, but Kie shrugs it off. She can tell it isn’t directed at her. Gen sighs. “Sorry. I’m just. Really fucking hungry.”

“How come? You look like you’re just back from a dinner party.”

“More like brunch with the Camerons.” she says, and purses her lips. “And my dad.”

“Ooh, trouble in paradise?”

A snort, “Hardly.”

“Yeah, that sounds horrible. So, the usual?” Kie pulls out the little notebook like she’s about to take her order.

“Yes, pretty please. Wait, do you serve cider here?”

“Gen, you know we can’t sell alcohol to minors.” Kiara bites her lip, grimacing the tiniest bit at her little lie. If she wanted to, she could give her a ‘complimentary’ beer like she often would when the boys came by, but Gen really didn’t look like that was what she needed.

Gen smiles then, an understanding, earnest smile that feels kind of weird on her face. Up to now, her smiles have been for JJ, or about him, and they’re usually something like _oh, you think you’re funny?_ or _I would kiss you just to spite you._ This one is like: _I see what you’re doing. Thank you._

Kie comes back with a burger, fries, and two milkshakes instead of one.

-

Gen spends the next week on the beach.

It’s quiet, most of the time. She doesn’t sleep much, so she’s able to be there alone for a few hours before the area becomes too crowded. She’s waist deep in the water, feeling the soft sand against her feet, the constant rush of the tide pulling at her sides.

_Isn’t it what we do? Don’t we use each other?_

_You’re such a coward!_

_Where have you been?_

_You could stay._

_Come on, Gen -_

“Shut up”, she mumbles to the sky, but the words still linger in her mind, and more memories play out behind her eyelids: Rafe’s disdainful looks at her when they were younger. That first night, at the bonfire. The time when they locked themselves inside Kelce’s room at a party. Bite marks on his neck, bruises on her hips. Herself, tumbling down the stairs. A hand on her thigh growing painfully hotter and unbearably heavier and -

A small wave breaks at her navel. Gen opens her eyes.

The water feels cool and soothing against her skin. She feels the tension in her shoulders ease, the weight of her decisions shift. _I’m done,_ she tells the sea, and wills it to wash away her anguish.

It’s noon when she meets JJ by the pier. He’s all smiles and sun-kissed skin and lean muscle displayed in his cutoff shirt (not that Gen is looking. She’s not.), and when he excitedly points out that there’s sand in her hair, whatever remnants of the dull ache in her chest are forgotten.

They build a castle. It’s a little blocky, because they didn’t bring any tools, but where his hands are big and clumsy, hers are swift and nimble - so it turns out pretty good. JJ steals her hairpin to sculpt the windows and the watchtower, because of course it needs to have a watch tower. For the archers.

 _How do you like the stronghold, Your Majesty?,_ he asks her gallantly. Gen shows him the selection of seashells she picked in her morning stroll so they can decorate the outer wall, but the tide rises before they can, destroying the whole thing and _JJ, I_ told _you we should have made the moat deeper!_

So he picks up the largest, heaviest shell and starts to use it to do kick-ups. He’s outrageously bad and she’s giggling and her heart feels lighter (and _okay,_ maybe she’s looking a little bit).

No one else can make her laugh like JJ Maybank. Of course, no one else does as many brainless, ridiculous things as JJ Maybank, but maybe that’s a part of it.

Kiara joins them a few hours later, flanked by Pope, who turns out to be endearingly awkward.

He joins the conversation like he’s testing a tightrope, but he remembers her from the kegger, and he asks about her leg even though it was more than a month ago.

“Man, you should’ve seen me. I was like a surgeon, literally. I removed a billion little pieces of glass in like, what? Two hours?” JJ beams.

Pope raises an eyebrow. “I don’t know, man, I doubt you could last two hours playing doctor.” Kie rolls her eyes.

Gen elbows JJ lightly in the rib. “Oh, no, he totally saved me that day. It’s not like he tried to get the splinters out by _squeezing_ my leg!”

“JJ!” Kie swats his arm.

“I was just trying to get a better look at the cut!” he waves his hands in distress, “It was hard to spot them all! The lighting at the Chateau was _not_ doing me any favors.”

“All right, Mr. surgeon.” Pope snorts, more at ease. He looks at Gen. “Did you know about the time he wanted to clean the cut on John B’s hand with beer?”

Kiara slaps her own leg, “Oh my Gosh! I was _just_ thinking about that!”

“He did _what?_ ”

-

Surf, sun and sea.

The worst possible combination.

Is she aware of how her hair glows? Of how the sun reflects on the beading of seawater on her skin? JJ knows he’s supposed to be shit-talking with Pope right now, but his brain goes a little fuzzy when Gen emerges from the waves, board under her arm like some kind of fever dream. The late afternoon sun silhouettes her sharply, sending long shadows along the sand. His throat feels a little scratchy.

"You were supposed to be watching me." She drops to the spot next to him. Fine sand sticks to her skin. "I caught the wave."

To his left, Kie snickers at his wordlessness. She’s stretched on her beach towel, one earphone plugged in. “He was watching you, alright.”

Gen thankfully ignores her. “JJ?”

"Hmm? Oh. Right. Well...you know... very..." If the faltering wasn’t enough, he finishes his sentence with a thumbs up. Gen frowns, Pope stifles a laugh with a cough, and if he could _just die right now._

(But then her lips kinda tilt upwards, so maybe it’s okay.)

-

Kiara is cleaning the last greasy surfaces of her section when JJ slips into the restaurant. He steals a cloth from her apron pocket - _Hey, Kie_ \- and mimics her motions, wiping the tables opposite to her. It’s already dark, and she was on closing duty today. She doesn’t mind, but she appreciates the company. 

And the fact that the tables get clean in half the time.

To thank him, she brings out leftovers from the kitchen - some fries, two slightly burned but still edible burger patties - and chucks them on the bartop (because the tables are spotless and she refuses to get crumbs on them).

JJ hums in gratitude. “I already ate at Gen’s”, he tells her, but he bites the patty anyway.

“Right. How’s that going for you?” 

“What do you mean?”, through a mouthful of fries. He leans his boot on her knee.

She kicks it away. “Are you playing dumb with me? I mean have you made a move yet?”

His eyes widen just the slightest bit. “What? Kie, it’s not like that.” He purses his lips. Kiara raises an eyebrow and scoffs. 

“Oh, right. You just turn into a blushing blubbering mess every time one of your platonic friends comes back from a swim, I forgot.”

“I don’t _blush!_ ” JJ throws a limp fry at her head. “Okay, so maybe I’m into her. Like, really into her. Big deal. She’s beautiful, she’s nice, she could drink me under the table any day. And she’s super cool, horrible surfing notwithstanding.”

Kie laughs at that, because Gen _was_ a horrible surfist, but she’d been improving under JJ’s guidance.

He sighs, “Still, it’s no big deal, okay? And it’s not like anything could happen anyway, with that dickhead Rafe Cameron in the picture.”

“Gosh, you’re smitten! JJ, you got her _giggling._ I don’t think I’ve ever seen Gen giggling that way, even - wait, what did you say about Rafe?”

“Huh? Nothing. Just that she has that weird on and off thing with him.”

Kiara frowns, “No, she doesn’t. Not anymore anyway.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Well, judging by the way she walked in here last week, fresh from a fancy reunion my mom would’ve loved to attend looking like a prissy kid who got their sand castle kicked, and then proceeded to tell me just in how many ways Rafe Cameron had kicked her sand castle, you could say they no longer have _‘a thing’._ ”

JJ just stares. When Kie gets annoyed, after about six seconds, she snaps her fingers three times, “If you drool on my floor, you’re cleaning it!”

He grabs her hand before she can snap a fourth time. “So you’re saying -”

“ _Yes,_ JJ, I’m saying she dumped him!”

“But _why?_ ”

“Because he’s a disrespectful, self centered asshole? That one was kind of a given. Man, you’re getting slow.” She grabs a handful of his fries and aims one at his hair.

JJ catches it with a bite, “Oh, I’ll show you slow!”, and then she’s shrieking and running through the maze of tables and chairs, being way too careless for someone who had just scrubbed them clean, her best friend chasing after her with hands outstretched like they’re children again.


	6. Chapter 6

_I’m saying she dumped him_ and _Have you made a move yet?_ stay with JJ for longer than he would’ve liked to admit.

“Did you know,” Gen says through the opening scene of _Jaws_ , “that cows are more dangerous than sharks?”

They’re on opposite ends of the couch, her legs splayed on his lap and his feet propped up on the center table. Her socks are a pretty shade of blue. On the TV, a girl is shrieking in the water as she is swung back and forth by, presumably, a shark. 

“I mean yeah, I can see they’re deadly, I’m not saying they’re not. But statistically they kill like five people a year, because apparently we taste bad and they usually don’t want to eat us.” 

JJ turns to look at her. “And you think... _cows_ want to eat us?”, through a mouthful of popcorn.

“I think -” She nudges him in the stomach with her heel, a grin spreading across her face. “Cows kill about twenty people a year. That’s literally four times more than sharks, and yet no one has ever made a horror movie about them.”

“I’d choose dying by a shark over a cow any day. Being murdered by a bovine sounds _so_ lame.”

“I mean, bulls are pretty fearsome. All the stomping and potential impaling considered.”

“Okay, miss Discovery Channel. Impaling does sound hardcore, but I stand by what I said.”

Another nudge, this time on his chest, “If you start calling me that -”

“Oh, don’t worry, princess, your list of official titles is way too long already.” He gets up, moving her legs to the couch despite her protests. “And I’m due for some more popcorn.” JJ shakes his empty bowl. She hands him her own.

He’s watching the second bag pop in the microwave when he hears the sound of glass breaking. His first reaction is to yelp Gen’s name, then turning around to see what happened.

A thin grey striped cat stares at him from the countertop. On the floor, a delicate cup of tea is broken to pieces, a greenish liquid splattered around it. _Gross,_ he thinks.

“What happened? Are you okay?” She asks from the door, leaning slightly, eyebrows twisted in worry. Her eyes dart around the kitchen, and then her expression softens. “Oh! Hey, Boris!” 

JJ is confused for a second. Gen is careful to avoid the mess at her feet and stretches her hand at the cat. Did he miss something?

“I didn’t know you had a cat?” it comes out as a question.

“What? Oh, no. This is Boris”, she nods to the animal. Boris, in turn, climbs up her arm and finds a spot on her shoulder, like a parrot on a pirate. “He’s a stray. He comes by every once in a while for a treat. Usually through the door.” She glares at him jokingly. “Boris, this is JJ.”

Boris hisses at him.

He’s still gaping. Gen scratches the cat under his chin, and it nuzzles her neck. Her shirt is a little wrinkled, her hair a little messy from hours laying on the couch. It’s a stark contrast from her usually put together, sleek appearance, though no less beautiful. He wants to tell her that, to say -

“You named the cat Boris”, he blurts out.

“Yes, I did.” Gen nods solemnly.

“It’s a crappy name.”

“It was my grandfather’s name!”

“Seriously?”

“No.”

She smiles like she just told him the greatest joke he’ll ever hear. He wants to kiss her. Anywhere. Everywhere. JJ takes a step closer, and Boris’ ears twitch menacingly from her shoulder.

 _Have you made a move yet?_ , Kiara asks in his ear.

 _No, Kie,_ he thinks, _I’m being cockblocked by a cat._

“Could you go and pause the movie for me? I came in a rush. I’ll clean this mess in a second and join you.”

Gen probably didn’t take more than five minutes to come back to the living room, but to him it felt like five hours. His mind was playing Kie’s voice on repeat and leg was bouncing up and down up and down up and down.

_I’m saying she dumped him._

“Hm, where were we?” JJ feels her flop on the couch. “Ah, they caught the shark!”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he says abruptly.

She’d fixed her hair, now smooth and safely tucked behind her ears. He has a sudden urge to mess it up again. “What? I said Boris isn’t really my cat. He just -”

“About Rafe, Gen. Why didn’t you tell me about Rafe?”

“Oh.”

A pause. He holds his breath.

“I guess... it just didn’t come up. I... I didn’t think it mattered.”

She looks at him. God, have her eyes always been so intense? He can feel his face burning under her gaze, he can feel his chest tightening at the sight of her lips.

_Have you made your move yet?_

Gen inches closer. JJ leans forward. Almost touching. Just a few inches...

“It did. It does.”

She closes the distance.

-

“It did. It does.”

And she kisses him then - how could she not?

It’s a bit clumsy and desperate, and it took her half a breathless moment before she planted her hands on his shoulders - god, his _shoulders -_ and mounted his hips. Gen is very far from being inexperienced, but the buzzing in her chest is something she can’t recall ever feeling before.

JJ firmly grabs her hips and she lets out a little laugh as he rolls them over, making her bounce against the cushions. He buries his face in the crook of her neck, mouthing at her pulse point, and she shivers with delight as the smell of saltwater and freshly cut grass washes over her.

She’s so lost in his touch that she doesn’t realize her phone is digging into her back until it’s painful. Determined to ignore it, she kisses him again, but then breaks away from him with a gasp.

“We shouldn’t—”

“Yes, we should,” he interrupts her, and _oh,_ his _voice,_ so hoarse and urgent, and his big, dumb hands are cupping her face like she’s something precious. “Don’t say we shouldn’t have done that, Gen.”

“Well, at least not in front of the dead shark, we shouldn’t.”

JJ frowns, then he looks at the screen where the big, bloody shark was being pulled from the water. His expression softens.

“Aight, then”, he laughs and pulls her up by the elbows. JJ slides his arm under her legs so that he’s holding her bridal style. Gen can barely stifle her laugh.

“What are you waiting for? You already know the way!”

JJ carries her up the stairs through blissful kisses and before she knows it, JJ turns left on the hallway and enters the second room.

-

There is sunlight seeping into the room from a big window somewhere to his left, and he’s in the softest bed he’s ever felt, surrounded by a warm sea of dainty green embroidery. He can feel the scent of lavender and the sound of running water. Gen’s room.

JJ sits up straight and rubs his eyes.

He’d slept over. The bed was still messy where she’d been next to him - where she’d been _with_ him.

 _Oh_.

He realizes then that he’s only covered by the bedsheets, and his body is littered with faint bruises and scratches. But they’re good bruises. The kind that turn you on again when you see them and remember how you got them.

He gets up and fishes his shorts from under the bed before he starts _remembering._

It’s much easier said than done - Gen is everywhere. The pictures on the walls, the sweet perfume that lingers in her pillow. The same perfume he’d felt last night when she was pressed flush against his chest, pressing kisses down his jaw... Just the realization that she’s showering _right now_ just behind that door across the room is enough to make his blood run hot.

He remembers the electricity that triggered all over his body the second their lips touched. His heart races just thinking about it. Every minute, every breath that passed, he told himself that he’d stop when she did. He’d let go when she told him to - he’d already gotten way beyond he’d ever thought she would allow him. 

But she never did. She asked for more in every way possible, with words and hands and eyes.

Would things change between them? JJ is suddenly overcome with unease.

What if she regretted everything the moment she opened her eyes? Should he leave now and pretend none of it never happened? Should he stay and risk a painfully awkward rejection?

All he knows is that he wishes he could crawl back into that bed and hold her in his arms again. He wants to breathe in her perfume, wants her to take his face in her soft hands. Because if it comes down to him, he’ll choose the night before over and over again. But he has no way of knowing that she won’t take everything back the moment she sees him. That she won’t be embarrassed and push him away.

 _It's Gen,_ he tells himself in an attempt to settle his nerves. _You’ll figure it out. Calm the fuck down._

He’s never been this tense because of a girl. He needs to relax. JJ sits on the bed. Then stands again. And then sits back down and stares at the room before him.

He’s been here before, once, but he’d had no time to take in his surroundings. Gen’s bedroom is enormous - roughly the size of both the kitchen and the living room of his house combined. But what catches his eye aren’t the shelves filled with books in languages he doesn’t recognize or the perfect pink tulips on her bedside table. An intricate frame, just at the edge of her vanity and turned partially to the wall, stands out to him on the opposite side of the room. JJ picks it up.

He’s looking at black and white picture of a family of tree in a vintage looking, ball themed setting. It’s almost like a stock photo: the woman in the middle is young, hair styled in a Marilyn Monroe fashion, wearing a dress that sparkles as much as her smile. A perfectly poised little girl clutches her gloved hand and gives the camera a toothy grin. Gen and her mother. JJ looks at the man standing next to them in a three piece suit, smirking easily with a glass of champagne on his hand. Gen is such a perfect mixture of her parents it’s scary. They look good together. They look happy.

He thinks back to Gen’s tear-dry cheeks after her fight with her father and that dreadful sensation takes over the bottom of his stomach once again. JJ bites his lip nervously. This isn’t for him.

“She thought the monochrome would make the picture look cool. Because of the theme and all.” He hears a bitter chuckle. “If I hadn’t been like, seven at the time, I would’ve told her that it’s just fucking morbid.”

 _Shit._ JJ turns around to look at her, wishing he hadn’t gone snooping, apology ready on his tongue. Gen is leaning against the bathroom doorway, hair damp and dark from her shower. Despite all the anxiety, he’s glad he stayed if only so he would get to see her like this. She’s dressed in a cropped camisole and sweatpants that hang low on her hips just a little past her tan line. His mouth feels ridiculously dry.

“The K. C. Country Club Winter Festivities”, JJ reads the inscription at the bottom of the picture as she picks up his shirt from the floor and chucks it at him. She laughs at his grimace, and he offers her the portrait.

“I know, it’s tacky as hell. At least we look good in the photo.” Her finger traces over the scene as she tries to hide her frown. JJ doesn’t know what to say to that, so he says nothing. The moment of silence sends a chill up his spine. His mind returns to its panicked state from earlier. _What would change between them?_

Gen shakes her head and puts the picture down decisively.

“Anyway. This is hardly morning after appropriate talk.” She opens a coy smile, voice turning sugar sweet. “Sleep well?”

“Yes! Yes, I did. Great sleep, yes.” He almost says thank you, but he’s still got some dignity left in him. Probably. Gen sits cross legged on the bed, nodding at his response with pursed lips. JJ scratches the back of his neck. _What next?_ Should he join her? Should he leave now? Maybe he’ll just have his first heart attack at the age of 17.

“Are you sure...? You look like you’re about to be sick.”

JJ rubs his face with his palms. This is so _not him_. He sits down next to her and meets her puzzled look.

“Yeah, I’m okay. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make things weird”, he sighs. “I’m just nervous. About last night. Not that I regret it - I don’t. At all. But I need to know... I can’t brush this off. I don’t want to brush it off. I -”

“JJ.” She cups his cheek, and the words get stuck in his throat. He makes an effort to meet her eye. “I don’t want to brush it off, either. I’m glad you’re here. I’m glad you stayed.”

“Yeah?”

Gen smiles. It’s a bit hesitant, like she might be freaking out just as much as he is, but somehow it’s still reassuring. “Yeah.”

“Hm. Alright. Okay.” He nods once, twice. Her laugh sends freaking butterflies to his stomach.

“Is that good enough, or did you want me to sign in blood?” Her hand hasn’t left his face. He laughs, because _it’s Gen._

Gen the Kook with her glamorous clothes and flirty smiles. Gen, who gets into drunk fistfights with people double her size. Gen, his friend, who laughs at her own jokes and can’t cook to save her life, who trusted him with her pain and looks at him like he’s something great. Who makes him _feel_ like he’s something great.

A once in a lifetime kind of girl. The thought is as endearing as it’s terrifying. 

He kisses her palm, sweetly, ghostly. Then her wrist. He’s tracing the inside of her arm with his lips when her hand curls behind his neck. Gen pulls him close with all her might and they fall back on the bed, lips crashing and limbs entwining. 

“That’s good enough,” he whispers into her skin.

-

Pope Heyward knows what happened as soon as JJ walks through the door.

His best friend comes into the Chateau with peacock-like strides and a grin that lights up his whole face, balancing two pizza boxes in one hand, swaying his body as if he were in a freaking musical. John B follows him closely, shaking his head in disbelief as he hauls the six packs inside. Kie’s stifled laugh tells him she knows exactly what’s going on too.

She elbows him with a snicker.

JJ sits on the couch humming a tune.

Pope opens his wallet.

Despite having lost the bet (and his precious twenty bucks, he thinks as his hand meets Kie’s under the table), he’s actually glad to be wrong, for once.

“Aight,” JJ pulls out a deck of cards and spreads them on the table. His hands won’t stop moving. “Who’s up for some Rummy?”

JJ Maybank has always been a fucking sore loser. Tonight, however, not even getting his ass handed to him twenty times in a row can wipe the smile off his face.

Happiness suits him very well, Pope thinks.

-

Sunday morning:

On the way to Barry’s.

Rafe had thought, semi-optimistically, that Gen would come talk to him about what happened. He had thought that he would be worth at least another try, that she would at least pick up the phone. He had thought, if that happened, how he’d do better this time, be better this time.

It didn’t happen.

Exactly two weeks later, he sees her on the street. She’s just outside the liquor store, pretty red sundress, bottle of something weighing down her bag, slightly bouncing on her feet.

Her head turns left, then right, then left again, impatiently looking for someone. The motion disarranges her bun, a few strands coming loose around her face, and he can’t help but watch her, frozen in place as she brings up her hand -

\- _to his jaw. Her palms are soft and cold, but her touch burns him wherever it goes. He leans in. Just a tilt of his head. It’s a brief moment, but he commits the feeling to memory. It’s the cruelest form of falling in love._

_Her nails scrape the bit of skin near his ear before letting go, and he mumbles something about forgetting to shave as he lets his own hand trace the lines of her collarbone._

_“Hmm. You should grow it out. You’d look great with a beard.”_

_“Bullshit. I’d look ridiculous. You just want to keep girls away from me.”_

_“Well, at least you’re modest”, she snickers. Sunlight seeps into her bedroom through a narrow slit between the curtains. It makes her hair glow like a halo._

_Rafe pulls her closer by the waist and kisses her hard, urgent, sinful. The bedsheets rustle as she flips him over her, a small laugh escapes her lips - and then his phone rings on the nightstand._

_“Shit”, he breaks away. She’s quick to recompose herself, mild annoyance only shown by the quirk of a brow. “It’s Topper. Dammit. I gotta take this.”_

_Gen nods. “Yeah, no. Uh, you... you should go, actually.”_

_“Gen...” he sighs._

_“It’s fine. I’ll see you soon. Tonight. I’ll be at Kelce’s around nine. And get rid of the scruff.” She chuckles and slips into a satin robe, getting up and taking ahold of the curtains_ -

\- and tucks them back behind her ears. She crosses the street on a sprint, waving at someone he can’t see, and then disappears inside a beaten up old van.

Rafe rubs his eyes furiously. Painfully.

You’re doing fine, he tells himself.

(Maybe he’s glad she didn’t see him. He doesn’t know what he would’ve said. Doesn’t know what she would have said.)

He gets thrice the amount he had planned to buy and leaves his bike as collateral. Barry tells him he’s stupid or crazy or something.

(He’s not sure that he wants to.)

Sarah frowns when he passes her on the doorway, arms folding across her chest. Dad and Rose went out. He asked about the generators again. You should fix that, she says.

 _Yeah man, I know._ A laugh. _I told you, I’m working on it._ Annoyance. _Shut up._ A scowl.

“Jesus, why don’t you leave me alone? Don’t you have your little Pogue lover to bother?”

“I do”, she tells him. Her tone is smug, triumphant. “Don’t _you?_ ”

He scoffs and shoots past her, up to his room with clenched teeth and clenched fists. What did she mean? What does she know? _What do you know, Sarah?_

Dwelling on that was an exercise on masochism.

At night, Rafe slithers into the bathroom, his vision blurry and his nostrils burning, and stares at himself in the mirror. Stares until his face is no longer his, but pieces of his family. His mother’s nose. His grandmother’s mouth. His father’s eyes. He screams into his fist and hopes no one wakes up.

You’re doing fine, he tells himself.

You’re doing just fine.


End file.
